Beneath The Storm
by Sonicscrewdriversinmiddleearth
Summary: When Elladan and Elrohir go to Lothlorien on business their Host get's caught in a storm. They have to find shelter. But while they sit out the storm, someone is hunting the Lorien Elves, and the twins are then unwillingly pulled into a battle that they should never have been in. And with it unmask a secrete that was supposed to be lost in Lorien's history forever.
1. Prologue:

**A/N: Hey new story hope you like it!**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own anything!**

 **I do own my bad guy! My awesome bete reader is BlackShaftedArrow! Been a fan of her for a long time!**

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

A strong, handsome –though slightly annoyed—face turned lazily towards the tightly shut window. The man's slim, well-built form lounged uneasily on an overstuffed chair made with fine royal green velvet. No light was present in the room, making the cold absence of heat painfully noticeable, compared to the brutally freezing weather outside. The large, pale moon was shaded by dark, thick clouds that plastered the sky and blocked out any rays of silver light that would have seeped in through the glass of the smaller windows. The night was cold and dark.

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! THUD!

The strange man rolled his dark eyes in pointless annoyance at the distant pounding of the open shutters. They flapped wildly in the gusting winds of the storm and violently ricocheted off the stone walls. Why hadn't the servants had enough sense to lock them down? He'd have to find a way for them to pay for that. But no matter, he would deal with it later. He looked around the room in a patient, yet malicious manner, till his eyes fell on the hearth, unlit and cold. He smiled. Soon the storm would be over, and a whole new one would begin.

Thunder rumbled steadily in the distance, sounding like a giant cat purring in contentment. It was followed shortly by a dramatic flash of light that seeped into the windows, casting uneven light on the bare walls. The man winced and growled. He hated storms. Especially if they interfered in such a day as this. To his annoyance, more lightening flashed outside the large arched windows, lighting up the large room once again. The strengthening wind of the storm began to pull the rain sideways, promising a violent night ahead.

"My Lord," the small voice of his servant broke through his busy thoughts, annoying him and pleasing him at the same time. The young man smiled in anticipation and rose lazily from his overstuffed chair. He then slowly turned towards the ghostly, long winding staircase that his servant had just come down. The light-haired boy stood by the steps, a towel in his hand, expression grave. The sound of low rumbling thunder filled the agonizing silence between them as he waited for the sure news that would come. After a pause in the thunder, more lightening dramatically illuminated their faces. The serving boy winced, though it was not immediately addressed.

Yes?" The older man asked in a pleasant tone, smile fading despite his words. The serving boy shifted uncomfortably in the void-like room, green eyes looking around frantically. He did not want to be the bearer of bad news. "Speak up boy!"

"Y-y-your father, m-my Lord." The boy stuttered with a heavy feeling of dread, moving slowly toward the steps. "H-he's dead." The young Lord shifted near his chair at this long-expected news, face emotionless as he took a step forward.

"And he left everything to me?"

"Yes, my Lord." The man raised a red eyebrow in surprise, face steady and careless.

"Even his band of thieves?" The boy nodded his dirty-blonde head quickly, wanting frantically to leave the presence of his moody leader. However, his master just stared at him, aloof brown eyes empty and cold. There was a definite lapse in the conversation, while the boy's master stopped to think. The silence filled the air with foreboding and unease, making the boy want to run like a spooked horse. Suddenly the man's eyes brightened, lips turning upward into a smile. "And that would include all of them? Every single one? Even the most skilled?" The boy nodded again, practically squirming by now. This made the young lord laugh, knowing the boy didn't have a clue what he was talking about. He was just nodding to keep him happy.

"Then that's all I need to know. You may go."

As the boy scurried out as fast as his legs could carry him, the man began to laugh. His father was dead. Which only meant he could claim his inheritance, and do whatever he pleased with it. His laugh suddenly faded and an unpleasant scowl lit his face, hands clenching tightly into fists. The Lorien elves had better watch out. For the moment one unknowingly steps across that border, would be the moment he would strike.

 **Tell me what you thought!**


	2. A Long Road: (revised)

_**Chapter 2**_

 **A/N: Hey! It has been a really hectic week for me, and I had trouble getting to a computer to update! Thank you so much to my Beta Reader, BlackShaftedArrow! SHE IS AMAZING! Enjoy this chapter, I promise it will speed up! Sorry that my chapter title kind of stinks...**

 **Disclaimer: I Don't own anything! But I do own my increasingly annoying OC Faegon! YAY... I think...**

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"El! Elladan, come on!" Elrohir groaned, and rested his head on the stone wall beside his brothers door. He gritted his teeth, his face twisting, and he knocked. The dark-haired elf was greeted with silence, and the fact started to annoy him. Their host was supposed to be gone already, and they had been waiting for the last twenty minutes. When Elladan didn't appear, Elrohir was sent to look for him, a situation which he had been hoping to avoid. He shrugged his weapons further up his shoulders and took a step back from the door, looking at it attentively. A quick thought came to him. Smoothly, he brought his left leg back, and he kicked the door, electing a loud bang. The youngest son of Elrond winced, hoping it hadn't disturbed anyone.

"Stop stalling! We need to go!" He yelled again, pounding his open hand on the silhouetted door. No answer. Elrohir scowled, mulling over all the possible reasons Elladan might be inclined to stall, and none of them had anything to do with oversleeping. Though, Elrohir considered that Elladan had gone to bed extremely late last night. He had irresponsibly slaved over a patrol report that should have been on Glorfindel's desk earlier that morning. However, that shouldn't have been an excuse to not show up. It never was when they went out to hunt orcs. Elrohir paused in his thoughts and lifted his head from, unknowingly, staring at the cold marble floor. He thought he could make out muffled shuffling and shouting. Without warning, the door flew open in his face, causing him to leap sharply to the left. Elladan stepped halfway out and scowled.

"I wasn't stalling," he growled, his tone unusually flat. Elrohir carefully stepped out of the way of the door, raising a black eyebrow.

"Then let's go." With a smile that clearly portrayed his thoughts, Elladan shook his head and made to close the door. Elrohir's hand shot out to stop him, grasping the brass handle and forcing the door open. Before Elladan could close it again, the younger twin wedged his foot between the door. Elladan looked appalled.

"What's wrong?" Elrohir asked, peeking through the crack with wide, determined eyes. It made Elladan clench his jaw to keep from laughing. He couldn't decide if he was infuriated with his little brother's nosiness, or ready to laugh at his determination. He obviously already knew what was troubling him, and wouldn't stop bothering him until they talked about it.

Seeing that his older twin was not taking him seriously, Elrohir scowled. Yes, he knew exactly what was wrong. Elladan would not be acting this childish if that was not the reason. Elrohir scanned him, up and down.

"Look, El! You may be able to stand him for a week, but I can't! He hates me with a passion, and I won't say I don't feel the same about him. We will kill each other before our host even leaves that yard," Elladan said, turning red and trying to close the door. The younger Peredhel switched all his weight to his right leg, making the action impossible. Groaning at his brother's stubbornness, Elrohir clenched his jaw in an odd mix of annoyance and pity. He had been under the impression that Elladan had made peace with his enemy, and that this wouldn't be a problem.

"From what I understand, Faegon has hated you from the moment the two of us started training (how he tells the difference between us, I don't know) and you've never liked him either. So if you put up with him then, than why not now?"

He watched patiently as Elladan set his jaw, retreating back into his room to grab his bag and weapons. Elrohir followed him in. Once inside, Elladan swiped his bag from his cluttered desk and pulled it over his shoulder, swooping by the bed as he grabbed his sword, bow and quiver. He pushed past his brother and stepped out into the cold hall, stone arched windows laid open to the fresh, autumn breeze. It made the palace cooler than usual, but not unpleasant. Indeed, the fresh air was welcomed. After a while, Elladan responded, glaring at the space ahead of him.

"Yes, I've put up with him so far. But that's because we've stayed away from each other. But we're going all the way to Lorien together. We won't be able to stay away from each other!" He winced, running a hand down his face. "Why did Glorfindel even suggest he come with us?"

Elrohir could only shrug. He stepped in front of his brother and opened the door to the courtyard. It wouldn't do for his brother to accidentally kill someone in his rage. The cold, autumn air enveloped them, biting at their faces and hands. It didn't bother the elves too much, but it was enough for them to shrug their grey cloaks higher up their shoulders. They looked carefully out into the mist-shrouded yard, shading their eyes from the glaring morning sun. Awaiting them was a small host of only six, including themselves. Elrohir heard Elladan groan softly, and he frowned.

"The reason he picks on you so much is because you give a reaction. He enjoys your reactions; for some reason he enjoys them. It's like how you enjoy teasing me because of my reactions, except malevolent. We wouldn't tease Erestor if he didn't become angry and annoyed! And, let's not forget to mention that you are one of the famous sons of Elrond, his enemy since he first spoke to you, a great warrior who just happens to be a few months younger than him -an easy target- and you're just as ambitious. The two of you are too competitive for your own good. I don't give him any reaction and he leaves me alone," Elrohir said, sighing heavily and lowering his voice to a whisper as they approached. "Just ignore him."

"Easier said than done, little brother," Elladan whispered as they neared the mist-shrouded group. Elrohir frowned shrugged, unsure of what else to say. He hoped it didn't get to the point where the two would draw weapons on each other. With Elladan, that was highly probable.

"And speak of the devil," Elladan muttered when he saw Faegon, sitting proudly atop his white stallion at the front of the group.

Everyone was already mounted, their expressions varying from impatience all the way to pity. Elrohir plastered on a smile and strode up to his grey mare, stroking her muzzle and whispering an affectionate greeting. She whinnied shrilly and bobbed her grey head as he mounted. Elladan followed last, swinging into his saddle with ease. He tried with all his good will not to return the heavy glare he knew was pointed his way. His resolve would not last long.

"At last, you've found him!" Faegon said suddenly, as if trying to catch Elladan's attention. Elladan's scowl deepened— if that was possible—and he shifted stiffly. He wondered how long it would be till he snapped. "Got lost in your own home did you? Or were you skipping out on duties again?" Faegon asked snidely. Elladan forced himself not to retort back with a harsh, ugly and uncalled-for comment. Instead, his hand twitched towards his sword.

It was unusual for Elladan to have a problem with bullies, both when he was small and in the present. However, in the recent days, Faegon wasn't exactly a bully. More like an unwelcome, and strongly disliked acquaintance. They always fought whenever they were given the chance. In truth, they had only recently agreed to stop threatening each other with physical blows -for they were apt to do that- by order of Lord Elrond and Faegon's father. But that didn't mean the fights ended. It wasn't widely known why they fought, for there were many reasons behind their dislikes. They were both in the same age group, despite Faegon being a few months older. That had caused a lot of problems when they were young and in training.

But some seemed to think there was more to their pointless rivalry than that. Elrond had always kept the two separate as best he could. He seemed to think their futures had something to do with each other, and it wasn't pleasant. Faegon was easy to provoke, short tempered, and arrogant. Yet, he wasn't evil. Despite his beliefs and all they had gone through, Faegon was not evil. Sometimes Elladan wished he was. It would make things easier to understand. However, Faegon was more complicated than Elladan would care to admit. He had never been able to understand him, but he had always known there was more to the brown-haired elf than what he displayed.

 _And he uses that to be a bully,_ Elladan thought sourly. That was what he didn't understand. He knew almost nothing of the situation, and that's what made understanding his enemy impossible. Therefore, the feud was doomed to continue.

Even Faegon's father had agreed on the decision to separate them. If the two had lived closely -the boys father being a noble- something would have gone wrong. Indeed, there was one summer that it did. But after a few years, Elrond was convinced that it was no longer threatening both the young elves' futures. So Glorfindel had decided to send the two on a trip together, hoping they would somehow get along. It wasn't the best plan, but otherwise the two would have nothing to do with each other. The alternative was to let their relationship get worse, and deprive themselves of two skilled fighters.

Because of Faegon's quick wit and slyness, not to mention his uncanny knack for finding unfair ways around things, he usually came out on top of their quarrels. But it wasn't because Elladan couldn't come back with a witty comment, or find a way to seek justice for the other's wrongdoing; it was perhaps his upbringing that always got the better of him, and made him back off. That gave Faegon the satisfaction of winning, and the motivation to keep going.

As it was, Elladan only glared. Seeing the growing tension, Elrohir laughed nervously, breaking through the icy barrier.

"Yes, I did find him. Let's go." To show the truth in his words, the younger twin turned his mare around and urged her into a trot. Elladan snapped his head to the road and kicked his mare into a canter. The others followed closely behind.

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 **A/N: BOOM! TENSION! Hehe... my bad. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have fun writing the scenes when they fight! It will be so fun! I like writing those kind of scenes. I may not be able to update as soon as I would like, because I share a computer with two of my younger sibling. *mutters angrily to self* the older ones always get the laptops! XD PLEASE REVIEW! TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! And has anyone else watched Robin Hood BBC One with Jonas Armstrong? I just finished the series a few days ago! And I would rant, but I don't want to give spoilers to those who haven't seen it. (which is probably only me because I suck at watching movies and/or series before they end)**


	3. Fate Imprisoned: (revised)

_Chapter 3 Stuck In The Middle_

 **A/N: Hey! Sorry, I'm really bad at updating! XD Chemistry has taken over my life with lab reports! DUN DUN DUN! *shivers* well this is the next one, the chapter title sucks, I know. And you will come upon the word 'Whoofed' I know it's probably not a word in most people standards, but I was reading a book called _A Horse Called Wonder_ and they used that word a lot to describe the gentle snorting sound a horse makes. Like a really gentle or contented-ish snort. It can also be a 'not so harsh' snort that says "stop!" am I right? Can I get away with using that word? Please tell me... I hope I can get away with it. Because I needed a word that was like a snort, but not as harsh. I thought the word 'Whoof' fit quite nicely... **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Except my arrogant OC Faegon!**

 **Thanks to my awesome Beta Reader BlackShaftedArrow! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! She has the most amusing Beta Notes. Honestly I don't know if she meant them to be amusing, but I laughed... XD**

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The forest had grown significantly thicker since they left the borders of Imladris and headed towards the Trollshaws. They had never taken this route to the Troll infested lands before. Surprisingly, it was a cheerful and relaxing ride. They were able to move leisurely and watch the squirrels and deer running across the road and through the forest. The birds, robins, jays and chickadees flew through the cool air, whistling overhead as they searched for another branch. Then they would blast their cheery, rich songs through the dense trees. It made everything seem happier and the ride more bearable.

Yet, the ride had its downfalls. Even though they were small, they were still enough to irritate someone. Like the fact that it was crowded with tall beech trees. At every turn their way was blocked, causing them to have to go out of their way to keep on course. They had to stop several times and dismount in order to lead their mounts through, and they had to constantly be on watch. It wasn't a guarded realm, they knew. And even though it was unlikely someone would attack them, they could never be too careful. Another downfall was the forests oven-like appearance. If it were not for the coolness of autumn, the forest would have been hot. This was do to the fact that the green boughs overhead had grown so close together that they entwined themselves in the others branches. The result was that it blocked out most of the sun, light only escaping through small gaps in the leaves.

Elrohir, who was leading, was quite far ahead of his group, peering with difficulty through the branches to catch sight of the sun. From what he could see, it was slowly falling down the horizon in an orange, fiery ball, spreading a golden light on the pale leaves. It made the branches shimmer with the faintest heat, giving them an unearthly feeling. He shifted and looked around the peaceful, glowing forest.

He peered through the branches again and watched the sun. It looked as if they only had three hours till nightfall. Sighing, Elrohir stopped walking and stroked his young horse's neck, the animal whinnying in response. He would wait till the others caught up, then tell them that they would be stopping. It was too late to be moving on.

To his surprise, it didn't take the others long to catch up. He looked back through the trees, and could just make out their position in the thick forest. A small smile crept up on his face as he watched them approach. It was rather peaceful when nobody was talking. Or fighting, he reflected dully. Soon he could just see the outline of Elladan leading his horse, followed by Faegon and his white stallion. Shortly after that, the others followed.

"El, do you think we should make camp?" Elladan asked as he approached. The younger Elrondion tilted his head to the side, his silver eyes watching the group.

"No, let's keep going in the fading light, deep into this dangerous area, and walk right into a Troll camp," He said with a smile, lovingly patting his filly's neck. Elladan rolled his eyes.

Shrugging with another roll of the eyes, he turned back to his mild-tempered mount and grasped the brown leather girth firmly. Elladan heard more than saw his brother doing the same thing... at the same time. He bit his lip, fighting a mixture of mirth and anger as he worked the buckle loose. Elrohir was being extremely steadfast at keeping his nerves on him, rather than the brown-haired Noldor who was behind them. It almost made him laugh.

His saddle and its contents slid easily off and and he placed them on the ground. Elrohir looked up briefly and observed the others as they busily moved around the clearing. Sighing, he went back to work on sorting his things, his mind wandering. As he did this, the rest of the group began to do the same, working like ants to set up their camp. It wasn't long -in the darkening night- before the bedrolls and their various colored blankets were scattered around in an orderly fashion, a fire noisily popping and cracking in the night.

Two of the guards—a blonde and a red head—strode quickly out of the clearing, bows in hand as they gently teased each other. They were out of sight within a couple of seconds, vanishing into the blackness of the trees. They were initially picked beforehand to do the hunting for a late dinner, and the two had happily complied. Another guard also left the clearing, having been given strict orders to gather some more firewood to last them the night. It would be cold, even for an elf, and they didn't want to freeze. That left the twins and Faegon to keep watch over the camp. Wonderful.

Elladan stood stiffly on the edge of the small clearing with the horses, brushing his stallion with firmer strokes than absolutely necessary. The gentle horse shifted and grumbled, head craning back to stare at his master. The large animals big, kind orbs widened, and it pricked its ears forward. Stepping to the side with another grumble, the steed turned it's massive body to evade the next hard brush stroke. This caused the young Peredhel to glare at nothing while he went back to his work. Stamping one hoof solidly into the padded ground, the horses head bobbed once, and he nudging Elladan in the side. The half elf staggered, continuing to ignore his animal, too angry and worked up to care.

Shifting, the horse nudged him again and nickered in soft inquiry, almost as if to say 'What's wrong?' It was such a rich sound that it caught Elladan's attention, and the Peredhel turned his silver gaze to the gentle beast. The horse peered innocently at him, eyes gleaming in such concern that Elladan's heart melted. The stallion exhaled softly, it's breath showing white in the bitter cold air.

"It always seems as if you understand me..." Elladan commented softly with a small laugh, gingerly pulling his mounts thick, soft forelock to the side. "Sorry," he mumbled when he realized that he had been rough. The horse bobbed its head twice and nuzzled him with a forgiving whinny, making the warrior laugh.

Elladan's thin form was illuminated by the orange glow of the fire that sat across the clearing, causing his shadow to stretch far across the forest. Of course he had groomed the animal earlier that evening when he had unsaddled it, but he was doing it again. He wanted to be as far away from Faegon as possible. For as long as possible. Throughout the day—for some unknown reason—they had been on worse terms than usual. They had snapped at each other more than once and thrown venomous insults, despite Elrohir's heartfelt attempts to keep them cool. So he thought it best to stay away. For now.

However, it had not seemed to help. Elladan had only grown more annoyed. The fact was, once again, there was no real reason for them to be mad at each other. They had no need to fight in the first place, which made the argument all the more vicious. Both had yelled at each other during the ride, and neither one was willing to apologize. Neither were willing to admit they were being childish, or that the argument was completely unfounded. So, as it was, Elladan put his brush down and sunk into a sitting position, his back against the tree that his horse was tied to.

Across the shadowed camp, painfully aware of the massively thick tension, Elrohir sat nervously in a cross-legged position, only a few feet away from the fire that burned with a soothing heat. He looked rather cozy and comfortable in the warm glow of the flames, but it was all a facade. Every muscle in his body was as taught as a bowstring, silver eyes glancing hurriedly from both occupants in the camp. He was waiting for a fight to break out. To the young Peredhel, being the middleman in an argument was worse than being the person arguing. The awful thing was, he had already been yelled at twice by both Faegon and Elladan. It wasn't that his twin was mad at him, he knew. But instead of yelling at Faegon, Elladan had exploded at the nearest person, if only to vent his rage.

Far to the twins left, Faegon stood and paced busily in a circle, his body fully submerged in the shadows with only his natural glow to give him light. The brown-haired Ellon's face was twisted into an unreadable expression as he walked, his eyes focused on the floor. Shoulders and posture unhealthily tense, he looked ready for a battle. Same here, Elrohir thought bitterly. Faegon suddenly paused, his head craning upwards to look at the stars. Apparently not finding what he was looking for, he continued his mindless pacing, rage emitting off of him like a bad odor.

Over by the invitingly cozy fire, the youngest twin shook his dark head . A frown creased his young features as he shifted around in his seat and he finally—though hesitantly—asked. "Is something wrong?"

At the sudden sound of the Elrondion's voice, Faegon's head lifted to look in his direction, an unsteady gleam in his eyes. "Yes," he replied acidly, icily holding Elrohir's gaze. "But I wouldn't expect you to understand." His head dropped once more and he continued his pacing, ignoring Elrohir's long, heavy sigh.

 _Maybe that was the wrong thing to ask..._

Brow furrowed, Elrohir pulled his legs to his chest and rolled his eyes, gently resting his forehead on his knees. It was a cruel fate that he was stuck here with no one to talk to. It was an even crueler fate that he was stuck with Faegon. What he would give to be collecting the firewood right now! The stressed son of Elrond winced when Faegon kicked something, creating a loud noise. He would have reprimanded him, seeing as they were in Troll country. However, he knew a simple warning would probably turn into a massive argument, with lots of shouting. That wouldn't do. So curling up into a comfortable position, the Peredhel shut himself away from the tension that floated in the air. It would be a long night, even when the others came back.

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 **A/N: What did you think? PLEASE REVIEW! *puppy eyes* It would make my day. Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it, and tell me what I did right so I can keep doing it.**


	4. The Hum: (revised)

_**Chapter 4: A Reoccurring Nightmare**_

 **A/N:** **HEHEHE! NEXT CHAPTER! PLEASE REVIEW! PLEASE! *begs on knees with big puppy eyes***

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything! *sighs***

 **Thank you to my awesome Betta Reader who's B/N's make me feel so warm and fuzzy inside and occasionally make me laugh! Thank you BlackShaftedArrow!**

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 _~ **A Reoccurring Nightmare~**_

 _Darkness. All he could see was darkness! A deep void of black that stretched further than the eye could see, and went on longer than any being could comprehend. Its vast depths of forgetfulness swallowing all time and memory, and leaving nothing. Nothing but... emptiness. That's all there was. The world was simply empty. There was no such thing as time. There was no such thing as life. There was no such thing as sound. All around there was blackness. A dead and silent blackness. It was as if nothing had ever been made, or thought. Almost as if the light had never existed. Indeed, it was as if he was nonexistent. But then who was he? What was existing? Where was this place? Was this a place? Or was this not real?_

 _But then he saw something! Was it what he thought it was?_

 _Yes!_

 _A light! At least he thought it was a light. An insignificant flicker in this sea of shadow. Hope._

 _It was small, no bigger than a speck of dust. Yet it burned brightly, illuminating the darkness that surrounded it. But beyond the darkness, he found, only led to more darkness. An eternity of shadow. There was no world, no earth, no life. The only thing beyond the shadow was nothing. Like the anonymous void around him, he had no form, no body or voice._

 _Yet somehow, beyond the shadow and flame -so far that he couldn't even grasp it- there seemed to be something else. He wasn't even sure that it was there, registering only in the back of his consciousness. A hum. Low and steady, yet filled with panic and desperation. It was as if the sound was trying to catch his attention. Like a warning. His attention was taken away from the hopeful flicker when the hum grew louder, the incoherent buzzing becoming clearer._

 _Immediately, as if sensing the competition against the noise -the noise that wasn't even supposed to be there—the tiny flame grew brighter. It shone intensely, right into his eyes—he had eyes—and it hurt. It hurt! Stinging and prickling, boring into his head with the force of a hammer. Eventually, the former tiny flame began to drown the hum out. The buzzing became fainter and smaller until it completely disappeared, leaving his ears ringing as pain began to take over. Why was he hurting so much? He didn't understand. The once insignificant flicker lunged again as it grew brighter, beginning to feel unbearably hot. It stung fiercely now, but he didn't know why._

 _The light hurt his head, he found after a moment. It flickered and cracked like a small flame in a fire, licking and burning into his consciousness. Into his soul. It bristled and popped, seeming to grow more powerful the more he ignored it. Suddenly, his mind, his very being, began to sting! And it hurt! It was burning, cracking and pounding, pulsating until it was unbearable. He flinched in miserable agony, recoiling when it attacked again._

 _He wanted to scream! He wanted to scream so badly, if only to be heard, to be saved. He didn't want to be alone. But he couldn't, no matter how hard he tried. The light intensified in brightness, shining white and growing bigger. It continued to grow, shriveling back down, but coming back up stronger every time. It grew until it engulfed him._

 _But with it, the pain grew also, this time in his sides and his head. Then suddenly—and he didn't know why, or how—he could feel, he could move. But it was too late. It was too late to escape the pain. He was trapped. The agony burned white, hotter than melting metal and it ripped into his flesh. It tore and shredded his body—he had a body now—until he had to scream. He just had to, the urge growing unbearably strong. But again he found that he couldn't. He had no voice. No one could hear his agony, no one could save him._

 _He was alone._

Elrond shot into a sitting position, panting, a cry dying in his throat as soon as it had formed. He found his hands viciously clenching the blankets at his sides, turning red with the strain. He flinched as if from the shock of being suffocated, his chest heaving up and down to catch his breath. Too disoriented to move, the elf Lord found that his head was swimming, nausea arising in his stomach. However—with much difficulty, despite the fact that it was second nature to him—he calmed himself down. And immediately, he noticed a stinging ache that lingered uncomfortably near his lungs. As a healer, he knew it was a sign that he'd gone without oxygen for a while. The elf lord unconsciously shivered, brushing wild strands of raven hair from his face. Then he took a deep, though still slightly panicked, breath and let it out.

A stone of dread fell in his stomach, and he winced, unsettled. The Lord of Imladris shifted, noticing his forehead was beaded with sweat. As he moved, the pounding in his ears began to fade. He hadn't even realized it was there. His heart still racing, Elrond clenched his hands. They were uncomfortably hot and clammy, and the half elf's eyebrows raised in shock.

He bit his lip against the inevitable, and glanced around his dark chambers with resigned, silver eyes, still mildly disorientated from the dream. He was alone; the heavy linen drapes on the window casting ghostly shadows on the walls and floors. It wasn't dark anymore. Elrond could see the silver moonlight shining into his bedroom.

But yet, despite the peaceful night, he was troubled. The only thought that came to him was the obvious. The visions were back. The same troubling visions that had plagued him when the twins were born. The same visions he thought he'd stopped years ago. Elrond took a moment to reflect on the last time he'd had such a dream, racking his memories for a sign that they were not the same ones. He hoped to the Valar that they weren't the same. Then, as he thought, something occurred to him. There was something different. It was small, but it was definitely there. The hum.

Yes, it was present the last time the dream had occurred—years ago when the twins were just children. But it had never been so loud, so clear. It had never been so defined and desperate. That thought gave him hope, a small hope that these weren't the same visions, and they didn't mean ill for his sons. That they didn't mean death. But yet, deep in his heart, he knew it wasn't true. They were too similar to be different, too earnest. Immediately, the Lord of Imladris' eyes widened, and he threw the covers off, jumping quickly out of bed. The hum!

The dark-haired elf couldn't help but groan when he thought about the hum, pulling on a robe as fast as he could. The hum wasn't just part of the dream, it was a warning. A warning outside of the edge of his consciousness. And all these years he hadn't even listened closely enough to understand it. Elrond nearly smacked himself for being such an idiot! The hum! The answer was the hum! The whole time the buzzing sound was a warning. It was trying to tell him something! As he darted out of the door, in search of the two people he trusted most, his mind replayed the message over and over again.

 _Beware the light! Beware the light! It is not as it seems!_

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 **YAY! CLIFFY! Not the most evil one, but a cliffy none the less. What'd you think? Please R &R! It will make my day!**


	5. Malaise: (revised)

**_Chapter 5_**

 **A/N: HEYYYYYYYYYYY! Long time no see! Sorry I haven't updated... XD Chemistry has been holding me captive these last few days. We also had some friends over Wednesday night and we all decided to go out and play a game called Mission Impossible. But long story short, my older brother went to find a flashlight (since it was pitch black and we needed one anyways) and my little sister found a baseball bat... not a good thing to give her. XD She started hitting her friends with it gently and then I tried to stop her, but that didn't work. So I gave up. But then I wanted to see if a baseball bat could break a really thick stick and so I held out this two yard stick and I told her to hit it as hard as she could. We'll she did, she just didn't hit the stick... *winces* Her swing went wide and the bat landed on my knuckles with a loud crack! Lots of blood and bruising... XD Now I have three knuckles that are sprained and it's really hard to type. XD But anyways! Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything! XD I do own my OC Faegon and his Ada Farael. XD**

 **Thank you to BlackShaftedArrow who is the best Beta Reader EVER!**

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Elrond sighed, holding back his worry and frustration. It was a hard thing, knowing that somehow, in some way, your children were in danger, yet you could do nothing. You could only sit and wait, weighing the circumstances of your choices carefully before acting. You had to stay calm. The same thing he'd been doing for over four thousand years. Staying calm. The Noldo was afraid that if he didn't keep his turmoil under wraps, it could end up endangering the choices they made tonight. However, despite being five thousand years old and knowing how to go about such things, he found he simply couldn't rationalize. These were his sons that were in danger.

It wasn't that they'd never been in danger before. It was the fact that this whole situation had been setting itself up for years, slowly building under their noses. And they hadn't even assessed it. Yes, they'd taken extra precautions when it had first come up, but they had never seen it for what it was. It was death to his children. And that hurt him more than anything. Yes, there was no way he could have prevented this from happening. He couldn't lock his sons away. But at least he could have been more prepared. If only he knew! But why _his_ sons? Why were his sons in trouble out of all the elves in Imladris?

The healer ran a hand through his hair, shifting uneasily in his chair. They had talked the visions over for a few hours, pondering whether they were worth being worried about, whether they made sense, and what all this could mean? Now the room had gone silent as the three occupants mulled over the facts. It was increasingly annoying—not to mention nerve-racking—that they hadn't come up with any reassurance. No proof or probability that his sons—and the rest of the host—were safe.

"Beware the light! Beware the light! It is not as it seems. What could that mean? It could mean a series of things, bringing in the various components of different places, things and people. It could also bring up the subject of euphemisms, meant to trick anyone who eavesdrops and make it harder to decipher. So...which is it? And how do we decipher it?" Glorfindel asked reflectively as he paced the small study, his form stiff.

Erestor looked up at him, his eyes snapping into focus. The scholar folded his hands in front of him and inhaled, as if deep in thought. He then went back into his revere-like state.

"Or, more importantly, what does it mean for my sons?" Elrond put in promptly with a resigned sigh, looking at his two friends intently.

The Balrog Slayer stopped pacing and shook his golden head. He had been pondering the same thing, but wasn't able to discern anything at the moment. Or, at least, not anything that would mean something. The Noldor shrugged apologetically and continued pacing. A moment passed and Erestor finally spoke.

"It says that the light is not as it seems... That could mean that something good on the outside, isn't always good on the inside. The hum could be the sound of an arrow, symbolizing a poetic hum of death. The hum could be screaming," he suggested, not knowing where else to start. He thought it made perfect sense, and it was quick, simple, and obvious. It was the perfect message, being least likely to be guessed. Elrond nodded, seeing how that would work. Indeed, it did seem like the most promising choice right now. Especially with their limited time. The Peredhel glanced out a large window. The drapes and shutters were wide open, letting in a fresh, crisp breeze. It definitely took care of the stuffiness.

"Perhaps it's something they have, maybe someone in their group? Someone the twins are with?" The adviser continued, raising both eyebrows in question. Elrond listened to the inquiry without looking back from the windows, eyes unconsciously following a brittle leaf that was blowing through the air.

"Are you referring to the Faraelion?" Glorfindel asked skeptically, a frown beginning to line his face. Slowly, a worm of guilt began to crawl in his heart. The Balrog Slayer was starting to regret his initial choices of sending Faegon with the twins. Erestor nodded, as he struggled with indecisiveness. He made a small, shrugging gesture.

"He would be leading them into danger?" Elrond said, realizing what Erestor was wanting to say. It shouldn't have come as a shock to him. However, he couldn't help but freeze when someone repeated the fact aloud. It sent shivers down his spine.

"Not intentionally, no." Elrond went lax, relieved, his shoulders losing some of their stiffness. Then he saw Erestor's reluctance and paused. What could possibly be worse?

"But you've seen the way he acts? He and Elladan are always at each other's throats, always fighting and always yelling. He may be a danger to Elladan and Elrohir without even realizing it! I do not think he would ever consciously hurt —or endanger— one of your sons, no matter how much he dislikes them. It's a simple childhood rivalry, and those are harmless. But with enough prompting and deception, I do think they would turn on each other. They would be a danger to themselves, and anyone around them."

 _Yet... I do think it was the childhood rivalry that led them to this point in the first place_ , he thought sullenly.

Elrond nodded curtly. Anxiety moved inside of him like dozen ants, a small wave of nausea following after. The elf lord finally stood, the movement being his only visible reaction. He began to walk around the room. Doing likewise, Glorfindel had long ago continued his pacing, and adjusted his route to accommodate his Lord. Now both were moving across the small room. Erestor rolled his eyes.

"So what do we do? The twins and their company are miles away from here by now, we would never get to them before they reached the borders of Lothlorien," Erestor asked, breaking the small pocket of silence. Elrond stopped his pacing, a look of realization lighting his face. The Lord's silver eyes were stern and his posture stiff, his mind setting on an idea.

"I'll go," Elrond replied simply, as if it was the most obvious answer. He ghosted back over to his place at the table, but did not sit. It wouldn't be the best decision he could have made, seeing as how he wasn't supposed to get emotionally involved. However, his mind was made up, and this was a conscious decision. Therefore, it was most likely a good one. "I will get there as fast as I can, with the shortest route possible. And even if I don't reach them before they enter the realm, I can still make sure they're safe" He paused, carefully considering the alternative. "...And if they're not, I will look for them. I cannot rest until my children are safe."

His two friends traded a look, wondering if it would be best if someone else went. Erestor's was uneasy, but Glorfindel's calm and agreeable resolve changed his mind. Glorfindel obviously had no doubts or worries. He dismissed the thought, his eyes releasing the tension they once held. The scholar looked up at Elrond and smiled, nodding his assent and standing.

Shrugging, Glorfindel offered a small smile as well, moving over to the table. He understood what this meant to Elrond. If the Peredhel was truly certain that it would work, then who were they to keep Elrond from his children?

"Then take Asfoloth. He is the swiftest horse in this realm." Elrond grinned —though it was bitter due to the circumstances- and pulled the golden-haired elf into a strong hug.

"Hannon le, mellyn nin."

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 **A/N: So what's ya think? Reviews, anyone? *Looks around questioningly* I will respond to them when ever a chapter ends! XD Have a fun week! While I nurse my aching hand.. XD I'll try to update soon! Oh and I know there's probably some cannon stuff on Elvish horses, and I can't find anything on it, so I'll just have Glorfindel discuss some stuff with his horse. Any recommendations? Tell me what I'm doing right so I can keep doing it, and tell me what I'm doing wrong so I can fix it. XD**

 **Thank you so much to everyone who Favorited and Followed, I love you all! Even the ghost readers. Hey, don't be afraid to review, I don't bite, I promise. Well unless you have candy... What are you guys being for Halloween? Or if you don't celebrate it or don't dress up, what are you going to be doing on that day? I am going to be Merlin from Merlin BCC, either that or a Ranger from Rangers Apprentice. Or quite possibly Aragorn. I was an elf maiden last year and Amelia Pond the year before that. XD I'll either go to our churches Fall Festival or I'll be at a house party with some friends. It'll probably be a very home schooled party, which is fine because I prefer that. We'll probably watch scary movies and then stay up all night on coffee and chocolate. Ah the life! Then get yelled at by my friends parents for being to loud... XD Oh then before that, I have to go to another party at my school...**

 **Review Reply:**

 ** _Levade:_ Heyyyyyyyy! XD I know I answered most of your reviews on the PM, but I decided to answer some stuff here. XD Glorfindel does regret his choices as you see here! Though you were quicker to point out his mistake. XD The twins are so awesome! I love them so much! XD Thank you SO much for reviewing! You're awesome!**


	6. A Thief And A Lord: (revised)

_**Chapter 6 A Thief And A Lord**_

 **A/N: HEYYYY! I"M BACK! ENJOY!**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Well, except my bad guy and the Thief... Tell me what you think!**

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Glorfindel stared at Asfoloth, studying the horse's finely shaped build and intelligent eyes. Asfoloth was an animal more worthy of a Maia than an elf, and his loyalty and courage were testaments to that. He would not fail them, and if he were able, he would carry Elrond even if his legs broke. It was a blessing to have the respect of such a horse.

He sighed, chewing his lip, and he crossed his arms, leaning back on one leg. Asfoloth glanced sidelong at him, and if a horse could raise an eyebrow, he would have rivaled the likes of Lord Elrond. Glorfindel smiled. He reached over and grabbed the reins, pivoting on his heel to face the entrance. It was colder than it had been earlier, the doors left open to the winter air.

"Namarie, mellon nin," Glorfindel whispered, patting Asfoloth's neck. "I am not riding you. Lord Elrond must take you. I'm sorry I can not explain further, time is waning. Trust me, it is in great need that you do this. So be fast, be swift, for danger may be on your heels as you go."

The elf Lord paused, his eyes cast to the floor as he thought. When he looked back at Asfoloth, his expression changed.

"You must help Elrond fix my mistake, eh?" he asked, his voice shaking. A cold wind gusted through the barn's open doors and blew straw from the loft.

"Glorfindel! Stop socializing with your horse," Erestor called from the far end of the barn. Glorfindel gave the stallion one last pat and led him to the barn entrance. Elrond and Erestor waited by the door. Elrond was dressed in light armor, a sword strapped at his hip. He no longer looked like a gentle healer, but a fierce warrior. An elf that he thought had been lost long ago. Glorfindel smiled. Elrond wasn't aware of how much he resembled his father, or how much he reflected his mother.

Elrond nodded and took Asfoloth's reins, mounting in the same movement. "Namarie, mellyn nin," the lord said, hiding his unease, and kicking the stallion gently. Immediately—from just the small touch—Asfoloth sprung off his heels, pushing himself into a canter.

When Elrond was out of sight, Erestor turned to Glorfindel, whose eyes were straining in vain to catch a glimpse of his white horse.

"Nobody blames you," he said. "Don't beat yourself up over circumstances you can't control. You couldn't have known."

Glorfindel looked down, biting his bottom lip. He nodded.

 _But I should have known better..._

 ** _Two days earlier..._**

The rains had stopped, for now, leaving the branches of the trees to drip onto the frozen floor below. There were signs of another storm lingering in the bleak, drowsy atmosphere. The once blue skies were overcast with thick, grey clouds, blocking out most of the sun, and leaving the forest underneath in shadows. Though it was a gloomy and damp setting, it was not entirely unfit. The land right outside of Lothlorien—near the river Celebrant—were home to some unsavory characters. A small community of brooding hate.

Amarthan didn't really think of himself as a bad person. He was an ambitious young man who was free to do what he wanted. Free of his father's authority and morals, and free to do as he saw fit.

His whole life had been spent sitting and waiting, obeying his father's commands and weak decisions. He had to sit and wait. Wait for the right time to emerge and bring back the honor that was lost when his father let the laws slip. He let the servants slack and the slaves eat. Now Amarthan would regain it, and all the surrounding towns would once again fear his family's name! They would fear him.

No longer would the old lord of the town hold him back. No longer would he be denied what he craved. He had every right to bring suffering on those who hurt him. There would be much turmoil for the elf ho had taken what was dear to him. No one would stop him, even if they wanted to. He had the most powerful weapon in the whole of Lothlorien forest, and maybe even beyond.

The man smiled, staring off into the mist-shrouded forest. His weapon could pass beyond even Galadriel's sight. It wasn't more powerful than her. But, it was a thing so small and insignificant, that no one would pay it any mind. In fact, they would welcome it with open arms.

"I assume you're ready?" a low, fair voice said. The red-haired man turned, looking pointedly at the tall figure. The cloaked form didn't flinch at the sharp glance, and its voice rang again from the shadowy depths of its cowl. "You're ready?"

He smiled, shifting his weight to the other foot. He looked tentatively around him. "Only if I can trust you'll do your work."

The figure was silent for a moment, its reaction hidden beneath the cloak and hood. It shifted in the cold breeze, the dark garments ruffling in the wind.

"And why wouldn't we, Amarthan? We have done this for your father and never failed," it pointed out. "Why would we turn on you now? Are you afraid that we don't fear a child such as yourself?"

Amarthan scowled, and he lunged at the figure, wrapping a hand around its throat.

"Don't sass me, dog!" He growled, his grip tightening. "You know exactly why I doubt you and your band of thugs!" His grip tightened again, but still no sound was made by creature. He bit his lip in frustration, when, after a moment, there was still no reaction. He released the creature's throat. The young Lord regained his resolve and scowled, glaring at the prowler.

"I'll do my job, but I wouldn't threaten me. Your father was not so dumb as to do so," it replied, voice low and hoarse from the lack of air. Amarthan growled.

"I need you and your band of hijackers to spend some time near Lorien's borders. Make sure to be seen by no one." He paused, looking the figure up and down, as if to try to see if he could find a face. His efforts were fruitless, as he could see nothing beyond the unending blackness.

"I need you to find me an elf," Amarthan continued at last, rolling his eyes and turning away from the bandit. He wondered if the older being was raising an eyebrow under that hood. But he could never tell and it was increasingly annoying. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," the voice rang from underneath the hood, sounding far away. "However, how am I supposed to know what elf you want? There are so many and they all look the same."

Amarthan laughed, and smiled. "He works on the borders as a Marchwarden. I never saw what he looked like, but his hair is pale, not dark. And he should have a brooch unlike any other, five leaves in the shape of a flower, as green as the trees and lined with silver," he reflected bitterly, memories of a dark time coming back to haunt him. He did not offer anything else helpful, as he had nothing helpful to give. It was annoying, but he wasn't able to help that. "But I don't care! Just find him and bring him to me."

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 **A/N: WHAT'D YA THINK? I'm so tired, I got back from a trip to Thailand, and IM SO SLEEPY YET I DON'T THINK I CAN FALL ASLEEP! R &R Please! I tell you fun stories about the trip later!**

 _ **Review Replies:**_

 _ **Levade:** Awww Thanks for the review! My fingers are healed and functional! Thanks! They still ache when under pressure, but other wise they're okay! Ah, I suspected there wasn't much on Elven horses, but I had to ask. XD Legolas and Arod! They were so awesome! That's what I was doing. My mom used to own this gorgeous thoroughbred, and he had the BEST __personality, so I based Asfoloth kinda off him, but also what I have read on FF about him. Elladan's horse was actually based off my old horse before we had to sell her. She was quite the jewel! And as you'll see in the coming chapters, Elrohir's horse will be based off my little sisters horse. That filly was so high spirited and knew what she wanted. Not to mention she was stubborn, but deep down inside, that horse just loved everyone, no matter how hard she tried to hide it! I miss my horses so much! About Celebrian... hehe... she sailed. Though right now, it's not been too terribly long since she left, so they've all had time to grieve and move on, though it still is a shadow. Does that make sense? XD I always fear that I make no sense when I explain things..._

 **THANK YOU FOR ALL THE FAVORITES AND FOLLOWS! Review? Anyone?**


	7. The Oncoming Storm:

**Chapter 7: _A Group Decision_**

 **A/N: IIIIIIIIIIIII'MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM BBBBBBBBBBBAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKK! Sorry, hyper! XD Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything! I do own my OC Faegon, and the red haired OC Celebdil!**

 **IMPORTANT NOTE: If you left a review on the last chapter, all replies will be at the bottom of the chapter!**

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As the small group drew steadily closer to the borders of Lothlorien, thunder cracked loudly in the cold afternoon. Immediately another boomed, the sound so deafening that it made the elves jump. It was followed shortly by a bright flash of lightening. Elrohir cringed as the gathering winds blew rain in his eyes, causing him to blink sluggishly. The others around him were not doing any better, being just as soaked and miserable. The younger twin's horse suddenly halted and whinnied in distress, trying desperately to backtrack—almost as if she feared going any further. She bobbed her elegant head rapidly, small noises coming out of her throat. In shock, Elrohir straightened and leaned forward, speaking calmly to her. But the filly wouldn't listen. She kept going backwards, footing unsure.

"Whoa, girl," he said steadily, patting her neck as he tried again. She huffed and shook her damp head, rearing ever so slightly with a distressed whinny. Her front feet hit the flooded ground with a splash, sending water everywhere.

"Watch it, Elrondion!" Shouted Faegon from behind him, the murky water having sprayed in his face and soaked him further. The elf's pessimist attitude had begun to grate on everyone's nerves, having always brought up the downside in every decision they made. His feathers were too easily ruffled, he was easily angered and they were traveling in less than ideal conditions. That made staying calm and collected much harder.

"Sorry," Elrohir mumbled inaudibly in the storm, his voice barely reaching the others' ears. The miserable dark-haired elf behind him just growled and pulled his horse out from behind Elrohir, kicking him into a trot. The half-elf just shrugged, raising his eyebrows and continuing to gently calm his young steed. He could practically feel her need to bolt—from fear or just the storm, he didn't know—and tried to ease her with his own calmness. He knew that if he were calm, she would be too. And that's what he needed. She shifted uneasily underneath him, two elves passing them before he finally had her under control. She was still jumpy, but hopefully she wouldn't throw him off.

After that, the small band moodily continued their desperate search for shelter. However, to everyone's extended misery, the storm grew stronger. The wind picked up considerably, howling and singing through the branches of the trees, making them sway dangerously. The clouds darkened overhead, until you couldn't see your own hand in front of your face, making navigation a problem. But the worst was the fact that ice cold rain pounded unrelentingly on them, slowly seeping through their thick cloaks and onto their skin. It was dangerously cold out. And though an elf could probably survive the cold, the wind and rain made it worse, so that even they felt a chill. If they were cold, the horses were probably freezing.

As if on cue from another flash of lightening, the rain began to fall even heavier, destroying even the smallest chance that they would keep dry. Immediately, everyone's cloaks, shirts, boots, and even packs were sodden in water. It fell so thickly that Elladan, who was leading at the moment, couldn't even see two feet in front of him. There was only void blackness.

The loud booming of thunder sounded around them once more, spooking Elrohir's young mare again. He quickly went to work on easing her, making the angry and touchy group have to stop. As he worked on calming her down. The group instantly begangrumbling complaints under their breaths, their voices just barely heard above the rain. All they wanted was some shelter, and Elrohir's skirmish filly was making that difficult to produce. If she kept on spooking at every shadow, every sound and every insect, it would take them years to reach any kind of shelter. Once again, Elladan cursed the group's decision to ride on, even though they knew it grew darker in the early evenings of autumn. He would not be able to live this decision down, especially if Elrohir was involved. Next time, they were not having a group decision. They were going to play it safe and hopefully, this wouldn't happen again. But then again, he would never be able to predict when a massive storm would suddenly appear. That was just something they couldn't do.

"El, I haven't seen any sign of shelter for miles!" His brother yelled above the sound of thunder and the rain, pulling up beside the back of his twin's horse. Elladan twisted his body sideways in his saddle, craning his neck to see his brother. It was no use, the soggy flaps of his hood plastered themselves to the sides of his face, eliminating all peripheral vision. Growling in annoyance, he pulled his hood back. The rain instantly soaked what was once mostly dry hair, water running down his cheeks and forehead.

"We have no choice but to go on!" Elladan shouted back, pulling his horse to a halt. Both knew that if they couldn't find any shelter soon, they would have serious problems. Especially if the horses had to stay out in this weather. Elrohir winced when a raindrop hit his exposed eye, causing his vision to blur. Blinking away the water once more, he noticed Elladan wasn't riding on. Sighing, Elrohir pulled his horse up and looked around, his brother dismounting. Not two feet ahead of them, a small flowing river crashed along the hill.

"It will be safer if we lead them across!"

"Lord Elladan and Elrohir!" Called one of the guards suddenly, sopping wet, red hair plastered to his face. The soldier handed his reins to a friend and trudged through the mud until he reached the twins. In front of them, he used both hands to push back his sodden, waist-length hair. "If I'm not mistaken, we're near the river of Celebrant, nex-" The thunder—which sounded as if it was right above them—cut his words off, causing the guard to glare at the blackness of the night. He shifted, looking up at the black sky.

"Yes," Elrohir answered, confirming the first half of the elf's question. His filly reared in fright, but he quickly calmed her. It wouldn't do for her to bolt. Who knew the weather would turn on them so quickly? The red-haired guard across from them sighed in relief, and his broad shoulders slackened. He smiled slightly, the first smile anybody in this group had offered.

"I know of a cave nearby! It's southeast of here!" The twins glanced at each other in surprise. They had known this particular elf was not originally from Rivendell, but they had no idea he had done so much traveling. They were under the impression that this elf was of Mirkwood, not Lothlorien.

"I know that cave. But it's too small for all of us!" Elrohir replied loudly, frowning when he felt his clothes stick to him. There were many caves out on that side of the river, but they were all rather small, the openings only being four to five feet tall. The guard tilted his head to the side, then his eyes widened in realization. The twins had obviously never explored it.

"If you go deeper into the one I'm speaking of, it opens up into a small cavern!" He yelled back, the sound of thunder threatening to drown out his words. Elrohir thought for a moment, then nodded, seeing how that could work. And even if it wasn't what they hoped, they just needed some sort of shelter.

Shrugging helplessly in the cold, battering rain, Elladan also nodded in agreement. When he looked in Elrohir's direction, the younger twin was already leading his horse away, swiftly disappearing into the darkness. So, raising his dripping eyebrows and laughing ever so slightly, Elladan raised his hand. It was the signal to get moving.

Soon, after a long and almost blind trek through heavy rain, the three elves navigated their way to a large, rocky hill. The twins had seen it before, but had never really paid much attention to it, thinking it was probably like the others. Meanwhile the wind had gotten stronger, almost to the point where the rain couldn't fall straight. This sent chills of uncertainty and dread down Elladan's spine. This was not a normal storm.

Once they had rounded the large hill, coming to the opposite side, they stopped for a moment. Now they could almost see the dank opening of a small cave. The oval mouth of the tunnel—around five and a half feet in circumference—was shrouded with soaking wet vines and various plants, hiding it from most people's view. Even with the elves' sight in this darkness, it still was barely noticeable. The only true sign it was there was the fact that it stood with a darker shade of black against the nighttime shadows. It was a large weight taken off their shoulders, knowing they would get out of the rain. The only question was, would it be big enough for all of them?

"Celebdil!" Elrohir called to the guard, causing him to look up from the ground. Water flowed into his face and he cringed, a hand moving a thin film of red hair from his eyes. "Are you sure this is it?"

Celebdil nodded, quite sure of his ground. He moved closer to the two brothers, pushing past Faegon and making the other elf growl. Ignoring the dark-haired elf's complaints, he strode confidently ahead of the twins, pulling his horse behind him. Sure, the sons of Elrond had come by this before, but there were many small tunnels in this area, and it was pouring rain. They had to be sure this was it.

"Don't worry, it's bigger on th-" A loud crash of thunder drowned out his voice again, causing him to sigh. A few feet away, Elrohir shook his head with a sigh. Well, the best they could do was to try and get both humans and horses into the opening. Why were the winds so unnaturally strong? Looking over to Elladan who had his back to him, he tried to speak. But his brother wasn't paying attention to the conversation. A massive gust of wind hit the group, roaring in their ears and spooking the younger horses.

"El," Elladan said, just loudly enough to be heard. The younger twin's silver eyes widened in horror, causing him to take a step back. The wind had been swirling around them faster than usual, and the rain had let up a little. Now he saw why. Another flash of lightening, only a few feet away, illuminated the clouds above. They were swiftly forming themselves into a massive funnel.

"Get in the cave!"

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 **A/N: What did you guys think? Is the build up good? Again, this is my first full-length story, so please drop a review telling me what I'm doing right, and what I'm doing wrong!**

 _ **Review Replies:**_

 _ **Lord Illyren:** I hope you liked this chapter! Tell me what you thought! I hope the story ends up being really good! I'm really anxious about it, so tell me what I can do to improve it!_

 ** _Levade:_** _Yeah, Lorien will most likely beat whoever disturbs them. But I think these bad guys are smarter than they appear. As Amarthan said, he has a weapon that no one would pay any mind to. So be prepared! DUN DUN DUN! XDXD I hope it turns out the way I want it too, and I hope it will be as epic as you are hoping! Thank you for the awesome review!_


	8. The Darkness Behind Us:

**A/N: GUESS WHO'S BACK!? I AM! WOOT WOOT! *pumps fists* Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything! BUT! I do own my OC's who appear in this chapter! Celebdil, Thorondil, Braignes and Faegon. I believe that's it! XD ENJOY!**

 **REVIEW REPLIES WILL BE BELOW!**

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 _ **Chapter 8**_

Elladan stood still in horror, watching the giant, swirling shape in the sky. If anything, it was getting closer, and it was moving fast. Very fast. Rarely did he ever see weather like this, especially this close to the border of a guarded realm.

"Get in the cave!" He jerked his head in the direction of the voice, looking for the elf that had said it. What met his eyes was panic. He was bemused, flustered to say the least. He watched in dumb shock as Faegon and the guards ran towards the cave, the dusty winds distorting their image. Along with it, the winds began to pick up dangerously, picking up loose debris and rocks. It whipped them around, turning and twisting them in midair. Something zipped passed the warrior's head, and he flinched, realizing his danger. The older twin turned sharply to the right, barely dodging a large, pointed rock. When he spun around again, everything was blurred. Everything looked the same. Elladan cursed! He had lost his sense of direction. Right, left, forwards, backwards, he didn't have a clue. He couldn't distinguish anything. The warrior was surrounded by a void of black, nothing but circulating winds.

"Elladan, come on!" Elrohir yelled from beside him, his voice faded out by the roaring of the wind. The older half-elf blinked in an odd mixture of relief and shock, not realizing that his twin had been beside him. It was scary to know you could lose someone so easily in this weather. Elladan tapped his brother on the shoulder, letting him know he was there. There was no way he'd be able to yell above the clamor. Turning towards where they guessed the cave to be, the two ran. Wet sand and small rocks constantly hit the two as they sprinted, causing them to have to stop and thrust their hoods over their heads. But even that didn't do much, they were still showered with painful missiles. Elladan coughed to clear his throat, stumbling in the blind night. The cave hadn't been that far away when they saw it last, they should have arrived by now. So why was it taking longer to get there? The two stopped for a moment, rethinking their direction as doubt assailed them.

Elladan stared hard into the darkness and moved closer to his brother. The two shielded their faces from the piercing grains of sand, searching desperately for the tunnel. They could see nothing, barely able to keep from falling over in the wind.

Wait! He spotted something!

The older half-elf leaned over to pull Elrohir towards the cave. Which was a mistake. The older twins eyes widened in fear. The thing he had seen was not the cave at all. Letting out a small sound, he leapt back, pulling Elrohir with him. A massive, pointed projectile hurtled passed them with a whistle, causing the two to jump. But the movement was for naught. Immediately, another large, flying object came out of no where. Elladan tried to maneuver around it, but he didn't have the time. It passed with a roar, clipping the older twin in the side—right underneath his ribs. It was too windy for even Elladan to hear his own cry of pain.

"This way!" He heard Elrohir's faint yell. The younger twin had spotted the cave. How? He didn't know. But he silently thanked the Valar. When Elladan glanced in his brother's direction, he could only see a faint outline. He took a step towards Elrohir, wondering if the younger half elf had stepped away in the confusion. However, suddenly his world tipped, causing him to start in shock. He didn't even have time to consider why, his world becoming sluggish.

The storm continued to rage around him, but he was remarkably unconcerned by it. Faint warning bells immediately went off in his head, his hand creeping up his side. The elf felt an odd warmth near his ribs, eyes widening. He was bleeding. A lot. The warm, sticky substance dripped all the way from his bottom rib to his upper thigh, the liquid soaking through even his thick tunic and jerkin. Elladan stumbled forward, not realizing that the damage had been that bad.

But suddenly, in his haze, Elladan felt someone grasping his arm. He was pulled sharply to the right, making him almost fall. But having no choice, he followed at a stumbling run, not really aware of what was happening. Then within several short, but vague seconds, they crashed through the entrance to the cave, both falling to their knees. Elladan immediately took a large shuddering breath, but it wasn't noticed at the moment.

It seemed that they entered in the middle of an argument, for even though their ears still rang with the howling wind, the loud shouting of the guards was still audible. Celebdil stood off at one corner of the cave, angrily brushing one of the horses. A very ticked off Faegon was by his own horse, saying some rude things. One of the other guards—who was an Elleth—was standing by the entrance, hood pulled over her head when the two stumbled in. She jumped back in fright, startling another guard when she backed into him.

"Hold it! They're here!" She shouted to the others as she stood crouched over due to the low ceiling. It was true, it did widen as you went further back. Faegon said one last thing to Celebdil before turning to them. He immediately scowled.

"Nice to know that Braignes was the only one willing to come and save us," Elrohir remarked dryly from the floor, pushing himself lightly to his feet. He found he had to slump forward, his back nearly touching the roof. The tension in the room, was for the moment, broken. The Elleth only nodded to the young twin, taking off her hood and retreating back to the middle of the group. "El, get up. You can't expect me to carry you, you weigh more than a horse." He said lightly, nudging his twin with his foot. Elladan made no sound in answer, painstakingly pushing himself to his feet. His face was strained into a cringe, though no one could see it in the dark.

"El?" Elrohir asked, voice slightly worried when he gave no audible answer. Celebdil had looked up from his self-appointed task, brow furrowed in concern. He put the brush down on a ledge and approached cautiously, coming up beside Braignes.

"J-Just give me a second," The older twin grounded out painfully, arm clamping tightly around his wound. Elrohir's silver eyes scanned his brother up and down, a hand resting on Elladan's shoulder. When he looked at him closely, his keen eyes just managed to see a dark spot. Elrohir gasped softly, wondering when that had happened! The younger Elrondion instinctively tried to pry his older twins arm off his bleeding side, but the half-elf wouldn't budge, constricting like a python. Elrohir sighed in irritation and stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. When Elladan didn't answer, there was a noticeable silence, as no one dared to speak.

"El, you know better than to keep me from examining injuries. When did this happen?" He felt slightly guilty, having not noticed it before. He hadn't even known Elladan had been hit, and it made him sick.

"I'm fine," Elladan said evenly, ruining his resolve with a wince. "There's just a lot of blood." It was an obvious understatement.

"Nonetheless, I want to make sure it's nothing serious," Elrohir pressed, the streaks of red on Elladan's shirt beginning to really worry him. The oldest son of Elrond glared at his little brother, but didn't say anything further, thinking intently. Elrohir was set on checking the wound, and there was no way on this earth that he would convince him otherwise. So shrugging, he grudgingly nodded his consent, posture stiff. Rolling his sleeves up, Elrohir leaned over and delicately attempted to see the injury. He peeled the half-elf's arm away, revealing the blood drenched—no, blood saturated—clothes that were plastered to his side. Elladan hissed in pain when the long applied pressure was taken away, his wound being irritated by the movement.

"Could you see what hit you?"

"No, but it was big," The older answered thickly, biting his lip against a wave of pain. The agony only erupted when Elrohir had begun cutting away pieces of tunic, the jostling putting strain on the tender gash. In response to the shredded flesh, the younger twin grimaced, watching the giant cut with a frown. With the missing pressure of Elladan's arm, warm metallic liquid began to ooze out once more. That would be a problem. So without turning around, the dark-haired healer called across the cave.

"Celebdil, I need your help." The red-haired swordsman cocked his head towards them, pushing off the cave wall with his elbows. His arms were crossed nonchalantly as he came forward, looking quite bored to tell the truth. It was strange how the other elves were standing on edge, but right after Elrohir had taken a look at the wound, the former Mirkwood warrior had went back to the wall of the cave. He was oddly calm.

"Yes?"

"Can you grab me my pack? It will have dressings and medicine." The former resident of Mirkwood nodded curtly and swiftly went to fetch it, vanishing into the darkness where the horses were kept. Immediately, Celebdil came back. Empty handed.

"Elrohir, your horse bolted in the fray..." He trailed off when he saw Elrohir's reaction, realizing he had forgotten to tell him earlier. There was just so much going on, he couldn't find the time. The Peredhel's head had slowly risen, eyes shocked, as if he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. She had ran? Great, he thought lamely, I didn't only lose a whole supply of medicine, but a whole horse as well. The best horse he'd ever ridden too. Not because of her experience on the road—for she had none—but her personality and gentleness. She was so young, only just getting out of her training. This was supposed to be a test run for her, and now she was gone. But yet, he couldn't dwell on it, or mourn the loss. Elladan's side was dripping blood as they spoke. So the younger twin quickly switched his attention to his brother's horse.

"Get Elladan's pack." His brother's bag wouldn't have everything he needed, as most of the herbs were kept in his own bag. But Elladan carried other supplies, like a tripod and pot. Not to mention a pestle and mortar. However, he would still have enough medicine to work with. Beside him, Elladan glared at his brother again. He could have gotten the pack, he wasn't that badly hurt! At least not that he knew of. But with Elrohir at his side, he doubted he'd get two feet without ridicule. In fact, if he moved more than an inch, Elrohir would probably tie him to the wall. It was a strange thought, but not untrue. Less than a minute or two later, the Silvan came back, gracefully throwing the pack to the younger brother. Elrohir caught it with ease and unbuckled it, busily rifling through its contents.

Elladan squirmed uncomfortably in his standing position, not wanting this to be made into a big deal. It was unnecessary, and he hated the fact that practically everyone was silent. A moment later he felt eyes on him. A lot of them. Now that the initial fuss was gone, everyone was staring at him, some anxious, some curious. Shifting gingerly as to avoid any comments from Elrohir, the older twin stole a quick glance at the others. He then looked hurriedly away, trying as hard as he could to ignore them. Usually he wouldn't feel this uncomfortable. But the fact that he could practically feel the ever-so-slightly-amused look that Faegon was sending his way irritated him. It irritated him badly. Just the feeling of the look slithered its way under his skin. Said, chocolate-haired Ellon stood by the curved wall of the tunnel, an eyebrow raised in his direction. An amused eyebrow. Elladan could read the look perfectly and harrumphed, returning the glance with an icy glare.

It was inevitable that if he were hurt—and in no crucial state—Faegon would mock him. It was just something he did, and had been doing for a while. The older Peredhel was just thankful it didn't come with the usual, spiteful sentence. It followed along the lines of something like, "Aw, is the little half-elf hurt? Does he need his Nana? Oh wait, she left you didn't she?" It made him burn with more anger than he thought possible, but not wholly for himself. Yes, he was mad and hurt by such an insult, but he had learned to ignore it. It was the fact that the insult was not only directed at him, but at his mother. His mother would never leave them, but somehow Faegon's words still bothered him.

Celebrian was no heartless being, she was not someone that would drop her children in the blink of an eye. She was not someone to think that her family was just weighing her down. She was kind and generous and she loved them. It was just an awful accident that took her from them. But Elladan just didn't understand how someone could do something like that, especially since Celebrian had been nothing but nice to him. She had always been unusually kind to the tall warrior. Yet he was rude and offensive, not just to him, but occasionally to the whole family. If only Elladan knew why. And the worst thing, was how low he stooped, using his mother to get under his skin. It was an awful move that no one should have used.

A few feet away, Elrohir shifted, breaking Elladan's concentration. He had been locked in an intense staring contest with the other elf and hadn't even realized it. He quickly lowered his gaze, feeling his face cool down from its initial reddened sate. His younger brother had noticed the whole thing and sighed dismally, knowing the feud between the two would not end soon. In fact, he didn't know if it would ever end.

Hoping on distracting his brother, Elrohir unsheathed a small dagger, easily slicing through the rest of the tunic. He heard Elladan hiss again, and he winced. It wasn't the best way to get his brothers attention, but it was the subtlest. At least from the perspective of staying out of the main argument. When he peeled the saturated fabric away, the movement caused the wound to bleed again. Elrohir held back a frustrated sigh and wiped the liquid away, clearing his view of the wound. However, the moment he did, more of the red fluid drained out. He raised an eyebrow and calmly turned to grab a clean cloth, sopping up the blood once more. The warrior then splashed the wound with some clean water, allowing Elrohir to see the full extent of the damage.

It was dangerously red and swollen, puffing up so that it was painful to look at, and to touch. The laceration extended from his third rib, almost down to his stomach. It wasn't long before small trickles of red distorting his view again. He shrugged and gingerly wiped them away, wincing when Elladan flinched, releasing an odd sound. A compressed groan maybe? The younger healer clenched his jaw, the fact that he was causing him pain making him nervous. But it had to be done. Sighing and shaking his dark head, Elrohir continued his examination. It didn't look as bad as he originally thought, being hopefully only a thin slice.

Please make it only a thin laceration, Elrohir thought uneasily, delicately feeling along the wound. As far as he could see, nothing was broken, thank the Valar, and there seemed to be no more outward damage. None except a few superficial bruises. So, that situation out of the way, the elf mulled over his choices of dressing. Sewing it up would be a need, the cut being deeper than expected. But it would be best if he waited for the swelling to go down. Hopefully there was nothing life threatening. Soft tissue damage would be easier to deal with than the alternative. So he carefully continued cleaning it, keeping an eye out for anything unexpected. Thankfully, he couldn't find anything.

"It was definitely big, but blunt as well," The younger twin replied, confusing Elladan for a moment. It was something Elrond tended to do when he was distracted by a wound. Apparently Elrohir had picked it up, being destined to confuse patients all over Rivendell by referring to their past statements without warning. "The wound is not as serious as I thought it was, but it sure bled a lot. The fact that it was blunt will make it harder to move. Luckily, your ribs are only bruised and not cracked. It will be painful, but as far as I can see, not life threatening. Though, I will have to keep an eye on you. You're lucky that it only grazed you. But again, I think you'll be fine," He added as an after thought, tilting his head to the side. The only thing left to do was sew the wound up, fix some herbs to dull the pain, and Elladan would be perfectly fine. As long as he didn't do anything insane, like lifting or fighting. Like that would happen?

The younger twin rummaged through his pack, grabbing a needle, thread and a match. Then he turned back and peered inside again, grabbing a jar of pain relieving herbs as an afterthought. He popped open the lid and promptly handed two of them to Elladan. "Chew these." He ordered simply. Elladan shrugged and nodded, complying with a wince. The taste was awful, as he knew it would be. The older would never get used to the awful bitterness, as he knew Elrohir wouldn't either. They both had a dislike for the nasty herb ever since they were little. But whatever was said about them, by anyone in the kingdom, the plant did its work, and it did it well. He immediately felt the sting in his side fade, and the pain dulled. Seeing his expression ease, Elrohir then struck the match, electing a small orange flame. It immediately began to lick at its wooden base, turning the pale color black. The younger half ran the needle through the yellow blaze, sterilizing it until it was hot to touch. Usually, he would never have used the matches for something like this, but it was quicker than starting a fire.

But after this, he'd have to save the rest. For more desperate times, when they'd actually need to start fire quickly. So threading the cooling needle, he began his work, the herbs dulling the pinch that would have come from the action. Thankfully, for both Elladan and Elrohir, it was done before they could even register it. So wrapping the wound with linen, Elrohir turned to the other elves.

"Thorondil, start a fire," He called to the a blonde elf who wasn't technically in the guard. He was coming with them to visit family in Lothlorien, relatives he hadn't seen in years. But he was still a good member to have, despite his obvious disadvantages. His leg had been shattered in some fight. A fight none of the younger elves had fully learned about. They only knew that the older elf's leg had never fully healed, and that he refused to sail. So he stayed in Rivendell as an adviser and a weapons trainer.

Thorondil nodded curtly, walking with a slight limp in the direction of his horse. He easily produced a flint and tender and made his way to the middle of the cave. That being done, Elrohir turned to Elladan, who had discreetly made himself comfortable on the other side of the cave, legs crossed as he observed the darkness. His attention was immediately taken by a bark of laughter, a mocking sound to a knowing ear. And Elrohir was a knowing ear. The younger Peredhel turned his head in the dim cave, sending a dark look in Faegon's direction. Still standing beside Elrohir, Celebdil cautiously stepped aside, disappearing into the shadows.

"Do you have something you'd like to say?"

Faegon shifted from his position near his horse, turning to the twins with a careless air. He looked at Elrohir pointedly, as if he were merely a stray dog and scowled. "Well, if it weren't for your decisions, we wouldn't be here would we? Elladan wouldn't be hurt, we'd be safe, and we'd have our horses. It's all your fault we're in danger." The dark-haired Ellon said simply, turning his attention back to the keeping of his horse. Elladan had sat up from his position, both eyebrows raised in exasperation.

"It wasn't our fault, we decided to ride on together. It was a group decision," The older twin retorted from his corner, rising uneasily to his feet. Elrohir gave him a warning glance that was promptly ignored.

"Really? I don't remember voting to ride on. Neither did Braignes, she suggested making camp at that valley—far away from the worst of the storms. If you call that a group decision, then you're even dumber than I thought," Faegon sneered, directing the jibe specifically at Elladan.

"Don't you dare bring me into this!" Braignes growled at him, hazel eyes glinting dangerously as she rose to her feet. He and Elladan already fought enough, and she wanted nothing to do with it! It already grated on her nerves just hearing them from afar. Even when she had stopped talking, her even voice still echoed in the cave. The Elleth shrugged and gracefully folded her legs underneath her, sitting down again. Faegon—arrogantly—did not heed the warning in her tone and scoffed, stepping out from beside his white stallion. Seeing the coming argument, Elladan sighed and tried to speak. Faegon cut him off.

"What, to afraid to go against the precious sons of Elrond? You disgust me, Braignes!" He spat with venom, glaring at the brown-haired Elleth. Braignes looked slightly offended at that statement, but she quickly masked it, clearing her throat irritably. The Elleth squared her shoulders and looked up at him, her hazel eyes inquisitive and seemingly unbothered. The light of the fire threw odd looking shadows around the cave, illuminating their faces and seeming to make the tension in the room only rise. It seemed that since he was failing at getting under Elladan's skin for once, Faegon had decided to pick on the others. And this time, he was getting results.

"Both of you need to drop it," Elrohir interrupted coolly, voice echoing lowly around them. In the sudden, tense silence, they could hear the wild roaring of the wind, letting them know that the storm wasn't over yet. For them, it had just begun.

Faegon snorted in disbelief. "Or what? You have no power to tell me what to do!" The soldier yelled haughtily, causing his horse to sidestep in nervousness. It sensed its master's ire, and it didn't like it. Elrohir raised both eyebrows, not sure what to think, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"I do, if it has to do with the safety of this group, and the fact that I can't have warriors killing each other!" He shot back, coming up beside Braignes. She shrugged, smartly allowing Elrohir to handle it. The dark-haired Elleth turned her attention to the fire. The chocolate-haired elf, in turn, looked scornfully over at Elladan—who met his gaze unflinchingly, surprisingly not the one most involved in this fight—and then turned his sharp gaze back to Elrohir. The brown-haired Noldo wasn't usually this confrontational, but the long day and the stress had made them all angry. Hence the reason this argument was even happening. It came to the point where people were just irritated and bored, looking for something to do, even if it meant causing chaos.

"The safety of this group?" The Ellon asked. He looked down at his shoes, taking a small step forward and then looked back up, biting his lip to hold back a disdainful smile. "We are stuck in a cave in the middle of a hurricane—there could be an orc camp around the corner—because of you and your brother!" Elladan had slowly glided towards them as they talked, arm braced around his side. He sighed and tried to straighten, looking at the two closely.

"And I suppose you could have come up with something better?" The older twin asked, tone holding fake curiosity. Faegon scoffed, advancing towards Elladan with his arms crossed. The older half elf only straightened, coming only a few inches taller than the other did.

"Yes, I wouldn't have put two pitiful rats to command a group of live people! Did you know we actually can die by your stupid decisions?"

"Elladan!"

Both elves physically jumped at the sharp tone that was used, the older twin wincing in pain. The Peredhel turned in the direction of the echoing voice, considerably alarmed. The dangerous tension immediately ceased, the atmosphere of the cave changing dramatically. Celebdil was standing at the mouth of the cave, crouching in defense position with his sword unsheathed. The Silvan warrior tilted his red head to the outside, gesturing to the problem. Out in the blindingly powerful wind and rain, just a few fathoms away, walked large, huddled shapes.

"We've got company."

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 **A/N: Well isn't this a long chapter! *wipes sweat from head* I worked on it just for you guys! XD 4,920 words! WHOA! XD Please tell me what you think and let me know in a review.**

 _ **Review Replies~**_

 _ **GUEST:** Sorry for the late update! XD BUT HERE IT IS! I enjoy your reviews and I hope you leave another one! XD _


	9. It's Only Just Beginning:

**A/N: LOOK! ANOTHER CHAPTER! YAY! Please review!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything! Well, I do own my OC Faegon, Celebdil, Thorondil, and Braignes. Hope you enjoy!**

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* * *

 _ **Chapter 9**_

Faster than lightening itself, Elrohir shot over towards the cave entrance, crossing the distance in a series of short, quick steps. The feat would have been easier if only the ground around him wasn't so wet. But as it was, he had to be cautious, his usually long strides becoming visibly smaller. Then, quickly realizing he had to slow down, the half-elf hastily skidded to halt. His arms shot out to steady himself, the action backfiring and causing him to trip. Teetering forward, his hand shot out and grabbed the closest object—the object being Celebdil's shoulder. Awkwardly staggering under the sudden weight, the older guard shrugged the young Lord off, taking a small step back.

Elrohir ignored him, regaining his balance and straightening, peering outside skeptically. The young lord's eyes narrowed in concentration and he attempted to see past the storm, searching the black winds for shapes, for movement, or for anything unnatural. After a moment, the dark-haired Ellon groaned aloud, frustration clear on his face. He could see them too, just barely. They were so small anyways, that even elven sight would be hard pressed to spot them, and taking eyes off them would be a mistake. They could easily disappear, vanish, And they couldn't afford that. The shapes—though barely seen—were grouping closer and closer together, merging into one disfigured ball. Though it was hard to distinguish their direction, he had the worst feeling that they were coming straight for the caves.

How had they known about the shelter? How could they even see it from that distance—whatever distance it had been, when he and Elladan had barely been able to make it out in the first place? More importantly, did they actually know about the shelter? Did they know a refuge lay right in front of them, housing weary and weather worn elves? Or were they just guessing? Were they just walking in a random, undecided direction? Searching? Looking for safety? He didn't know, and it killed him. It killed him that he didn't know. That he had no idea of these creatures' intentions. It killed him that he couldn't guess their next move or expect a random outcome. He just felt so... powerless. So weak and helpless, just sitting in this cave with no where to go. No where to hide. Nothing to do.

But nevertheless, they were out there. They were coming. And if they posed a threat? If they were the enemy? He had to have a plan. The Peredhel cursed under his breath, this was the last thing they needed! They had just been safe, they had just only taken a breath. Their only lasting worry had been how long Faegon would keep talking! Or if they could manage to start a fire. Or what food they had left for the trip, and what horses and packs had gone missing. Would they now have to fight for their lives?

Guess this place isn't as secret as we thought, Elrohir reflected resentfully, feeling the sudden, strong urge to bury his face in his hands. Why hadn't they considered this? Why hadn't they foreseen this? The fact that the cave just might have been discovered? That it probably housed more creatures than just elves? It was an obvious fact, it was something they should have seen coming. It was something so obvious and stupid, that it hurt. Holding in a soft groan, he hefted his sword in his right hand, clenching long fingers around the hilt in grievance. The blade was beautifully balanced, and he usually loved the feeling of it. Now it only filled him with dread.

But the blame game wouldn't help them now. It would likely make things worse. Especially when there was really no one to blame. They had gone to the cave in desperation, not by choice, and they could hardly change that now. It wasn't like they could go back and stop themselves from leaving. So, pointing the tip of his sword at Braignes, he gestured to the outside.

"I need you and Celebdil to watch the mouth," He commanded briskly, rubbing a hand over his face with a sigh. The Elleth and Ellon dipped their heads in acknowledgement. Walking silently, the two obediently took their places on either side of the cave mouth, easing themselves into crouching positions. Celebdil hadn't disarmed his bow, but had only loosened the strain, making it virtually harmless. He looked slightly uncomfortable with the thing, almost as if he wasn't used to holding such a weapon. Elrohir couldn't bring himself to wonder why.

Everyone was attentive and alert, ears cocked to listen for the slightest movement, bodies tensed as if to pounce. Well, at least most of them were. Shrugging grimly, Faegon stood off to the side, arms crossed over his chest. His right hand held his drawn sword and he leaned casually on the wall. And he, surprisingly, made no comment, silencing his words to a prison of thought. The cage of the mind, where there was no way for them to escape unless he let them. At least for now, as at the moment, there was a potential threat. But he had not finished his argument, and was determined to make his point. So for now, he restrained himself and did not speak. However, the chocolate-haired Ellon had thought about it, he truly did. If only to get on the twins nerves. If only to get his point across and win the argument. But he thought better of it.

If this was a real threat, they needed to be ready. They needed to be prepared, not arguing. They would need to fight. Across from him, Elrohir spared a concerned glance in his brother's direction. Elladan, despite his earlier positive examination, was in no condition to stand, let alone fight. He couldn't even hold himself up without staggering or tripping.

If the younger twin knew how many enemies there actually were, it wouldn't bother him so much. They would at least know what they were getting into, and some anxiety could be removed. But it was impossible to see their numbers in the storm. There could be tens, hundreds, and they wouldn't see them. Not until too late. So he was rightfully concerned, even though they would have a while to wait. And that only made it worse. Seeing Faegon pull out his sword and not really in the mood to issue orders to the guard, Elrohir turned to the last elf. The blonde one. Thorondil had finished extinguishing the fire only a moment ago, the smoldering of the coals distorting his image and clouding him in mist. The crippled guard was now frantically kicking dirt over it, a sleeved arm covering his nose and mouth against the suffocating smoke. A cough escaped his lungs and he winced, the thick gas burning his throat.

"Stay at Elladan's side the whole time." At first, not realizing he was being spoken to, the blonde elf flinched, looking around with watery, stinging eyes. He stepped away from the thick clouds of smoke, peering around them in confusion. When his eyes landed on Elrohir and he jumped in realization, suddenly understanding. He nodded his head several times, not giving any word of acknowledgement. Thorondil simply limped over to Elladan, waving his hand in greetings. Even though the older elf had sustained a more than crippling injury and wasn't able to be in the guard any more, he was still remarkably able to hold his own. At least enough for him to be trusted with a sword. However, as Elrohir was hoping to hold them off so that they wouldn't enter the cave, he wasn't intending for the blonde elf to fight at all. Just be there as a precaution. But plans seldom went as foreseen.

Now standing and leaning somewhat heavily on the cave wall, Elladan scowled, feebly trying to adjust his position. He didn't need a bodyguard. He was perfectly fine by himself. Why did Elrohir have to be so protective? Beside him, Thorondil offered a small smile in greetings, seeing as how Elladan had missed the first. The older twin attempted to smile back, though it failed. He just couldn't bring himself to smile. There was just so much going, so much happening, and he wasn't even sure what was happening. No one would tell him anything. Although Thorondil was older than the young lords, the elf still held a very high respect for them and tried not to get in their way, always keeping his distance. So seeing Elladan apparently less than happy about his presence made him decidedly nervous.

The group listened in silence. Dead, unbreakable silence. An extended form of anticipation and dread that made the air seem thick and hard to breathe. It made the quietness harder to bear, not knowing what they were getting into. They didn't know what they were in for, and they had no idea of the danger. For how long they waited, none could tell. Time was lost out in that storm, the sensation only made worse by the cave they sat in. Drip. Drip. Drip, went the monotone, mantra of water, slithering off stone and onto the floor. It was almost sickening the longer you listened.

It seemed as if, for those few minutes—or hours—that time seemed to stop, and all they could hear was the roaring of the wind. The dripping of the murky liquid that lined the upper rim of the entrance. It was mind-numbing, purely irritating, and stressful. All they could do was wait. Listen. Watch. They could hardly go outside and risk getting lost, and they could hardly shoot the enemy from that distance. It didn't help that they also were not able to clearly see their targets. So, they just sat, complete quiet dominating the room. A silence thicker than syrup, seeming unbreakable and overwhelming. However, the same thought was going through everyone's head. What if they were simply passed over? What if this was nothing to worry about? Were they overreacting? If that was the case, then they should be grateful. At least they wouldn't have to fight, risk lives to only lose.

Without warning, Celebdil—almost uncertainly—fired his bow. The arrow whipped through the blackness of the storm, seeming to fly off course. The shaft sailed too far to the right and missed. Well, at least it looked as if he missed. They couldn't see much, and with all the noise, it was rather difficult to tell. The winds were very strong, and it made it very hard for even the best archers to shoot. Especially when they had no clear target, and no way to see the distance or measure the wind. But that was the signal. The enemy was in range. He fired again, and even the next one sailed off blankly into the storm. He winced, knowing it wasn't the hard winds that made him falter. There was a noticeable difference, if one looked hard enough. His hands shook unsteadily and the bow jerked to the side when he shot. There was no way that was just a breeze. Across from him, Braignes's brow furrowed. The Elleth looked slowly to the outside, and then back at him.

"You missed," the Elleth said, a trifle disappointingly. As a young guard and a progressing archer, she had hoped to see some legendary wood-elf skill. She had hoped to see him hit their targets and kill every one of them from afar. The young girl was disheartened, and her face fell. At the comment, Celebdil began to turn red—brighter than his own hair—and tried feebly to smile. It didn't work, and only showed his further embarrassment.

"The bow is not my choice weapon."

"You're a Silvan! You were raised in Mirkwood! All Silvans can shoot a bow!" She exclaimed, watching nervously from the corner of her eyes as the blurry group appeared to draw closer. She would try to shoot them herself, but she knew she couldn't. Not in this weather. Perhaps a better archer could, like a certain Silvan. But he seemed like he wasn't up to the task. But right now, the young elf's mind was on the fact that this Silvan, the elf standing right in front of her, couldn't shoot a bow. He couldn't even aim correctly. After a moment of contemplation, a smug smile grew on her face.

"Ai! That is a vicious stereotype!" Celebdil objected defensively, feeling his cheeks flame hot with shame. The elf couldn't stand being singled out for his inability to shoot. He had had enough of it when he lived in Mirkwood. It was annoying. So, setting the bow aside, the swordsman drew his blade instead. He looked from one weapon to the other, brow furrowing. He wasn't really sure why he carried around a bow in the first place. It was a pretty useless weapon in his hands, unlike his sword.

"It's too windy outside anyways," he added under his breath, almost sure she wouldn't believe his excuses. He could sense it and see it.

"So now you're using the elements as an excuse? Shame." Braignes chided grimly, shaking her fair head ruefully. A sudden crack of thunder made her look up, hazel eyes guarded. And paranoid. It was easy to see she didn't trust the silence, and neither did anyone else. It was unnerving. So biting her lip, the young warrior turned back to Elrohir.

"We can't shoot them in this weather!" The young lord glanced at her with a frown, his sword scraping the sheathe as he put the weapon away. The waiting had turned eerie now. No matter how many times the two looked, the group didn't seem to be getting any closer. But they weren't leaving either. And seeing how distorting the winds were, it truly was hard to tell. There was no way they would be able to judge the distance fairly, nor would they be able to discern their speed. Not from this vantage point. So it was inevitable that they wouldn't be able to see the progress till too late. Just like how Braignes wasn't able to discern the twins' position earlier—though at that point the storm was decidedly stronger. She had simply assumed that they were in the same position as earlier, and due to the slant of the hill, she couldn't be blamed. It was virtually impossible to tell.

"You're sure?" He asked cryptically, smooth brow furrowing. He knew those were strong winds, stronger than a normal storm. But he was hoping they might still be able to shoot. He guessed it was just wishful thinking. Both Celebdil and Braignes had turned at his question, the winds outside roaring violently. They watched him for orders, their heads turned from the cave mouth. A big mistake. Elrohir's eyes widened.

"WATCH OUT!"

Braignes started in alarm. Out of instinct, the young Elleth sprung off her feet, twisting back to grab her saber. Facing the mouth, his movements faster than lightening, Elrohir pulled his bowstring back to his cheek, silver eyes staring down the pale shaft.

Simultaneously, something crashed through the entrance, pouring in like water from a river. Like blood from a wound. The elves nearest jumped out of the way, staggering back to their defense positions.

The room seemed to freeze.

Then, heavily cloaked—not to mention armed—figures stumbled further into the cave. Immediately, all in the room were armed, weapons leaving their sheathes and arrows from the quivers. Elrohir's fingers slackened and he released his shaft. The arrow zipped past him, disappearing into the crowd of dark forms. A cry of pain was heard.

"WAIT!"

Elrohir spun around, hand reaching back for another arrow. He saw emptiness. Elladan had left his post, the spot where he was standing being no more than an empty space. Thorondil stood a little ways to the left and was biting his lip in uncertainty, looking as if he knew someone would cuff him over the head. And a few feet away, the older twin was staggering towards them, his face scrunched up in pain. The older twin's arm was held firmly over his side, supporting his gnarled ribs and skin, the injury hindering his movements. Like a voice in the chaos, all fighting seemed to cease around them, the room falling silent. Deathly so.

It seemed as if his own words had stopped it, as if he had somehow reached everyone's thoughts. But he knew that wasn't the case. Confused, Elrohir looked behind him. His jaw dropped. For standing stiffly in front of the cave entrance, the shady figures removed their hoods. They were sopping wet and severely windblown, but they were painfully identifiable. Elves. Elrohir gaped.

"Haldir?"

* * *

 **A/N: So, what did you guys think?**

 **Review Replies~**

 _ **Lord Illyren:** Hehe, I have been asking that question for a while... XDXD Yeah, you should be worried for the twins... hehe_

 _ **LadyLindariel:** I'm sorry I didn't answer a ton of your questions, but I'll answer them here! OKAY! SO! Chapter 1, Yes, my bad guy is a whack job! XD You shall find out more about him soon! XD And yes, I would run too! Chapter 2, YASSSSSS! That would be satisfying wouldn't it. There will be a couple of characters you will hate in this, and rightfully so. Chapter 3, Haha, thanks! Elrohir just really reminds me of the peace maker and peace keeper. He's so cuddly! Chapter 4, Celebrian has already sailed, though it wasn't that long ago, but long enough that they've had time to grieve. Well, you just have to find out what the light is. Let's just say it's not what you think it is. Chapter 6, well, the weapo is actually not more powerful than her. It is just something that she'd dismiss, and everyone would. I can tell you no more. Chapter 7, Well, that would ruin the story if I told you that... Chapter 8, Haha, yeah, Faegon does deserve a punch in the face! XDXD I agree! XD Hope you like this chapter! _


	10. A Mystery To Unravel:

**A/N: HEYYYY! GUESS WHO'S BACK? MEEEEEE! Sorry it's been so long. Busy life. So, I hope this answers any questions you may have, and I hope you develope some more! Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except my OC's!**

 **Thank you to BlackShaftedArrow for Beta'ing this, and being so encouraging and awesome**

 **IMPORTANT NOTE:** **Review Replies will be at the bottom!**

 **Chapter 10:**

It all happened so fast. Faster almost, than he could keep up with. Figures stormed through the entrance, running in like a wild, hungry hoard of orcs. And truthfully, he thought they were. At first. And then he saw it, and he guessed he was the only one who did. It was logical. They were right up against their apparent assailants, and he was in the back. He had perfect vigil, despite his hazy, weakened form. Though it was hard to tell in the dark, the manner of orc raids were vastly different from elves. Not that elves raided anything. However, what he expected to be giant, monstrous creatures hobbling in for a midnight snack, turned out to be lithe, graceful forms. They were slightly menacing, and appeared windblown and disheveled, but they were hardly monsters. Added that, Haldir's hood had been whipped off, as did some other elves. Blonde, silvery hair was hard to miss.

Breathing heavily, Elladan straightened, ignoring the flare of pain that crawled up his side. Even now, blood began to seep through the stitches, the movement straining the thread against his pale skin. It stung bitterly, and almost caused him to recoil. But he didn't. Around him, everyone in the room froze, the sound of the howling wind becoming plainly obvious. The hurricane outside was hardly over. But yet, inside the cave, it was silent. Deathly so. It didn't even make sense, how quiet it was. Only moments ago, battle cries were carried out into the wind, and chaos had ensued. Yet, no one moved, no one spoke, and no one stepped down. Elladan's face was pale in the darkness, and he walked with noticeable difficulty. But, he was determined. They couldn't just kill their own, even if it was a misunderstanding. The elves of Rivendell seemed to shift nervously, adrenaline still pulsing violently through their veins. They were tense, tense with battle, and neither side sheathed their weapons. Not until everything calmed down. Yes, they were amongst other elves, as they had noticed—even if it was a little late. But they were also attacked. So, logically, there was no reason to calm down, not until commanded to do so. Not until their leaders signified they were safe.

After a few minutes in the agonizing silence, Haldir lowered his bow and raised an eyebrow, slipping a white fletched arrow back into its quiver. There was obviously no further danger, none that he could see. So, there was no need to stay on the offensive side. Seeing their leader's sudden, calm behavior, the warriors followed, lowering their hoods also. They were Lothlorien elves. Six of them at least, and Elrohir winced. The elf that he had shot was being held up by a fellow warrior, green grey and green forest garb stained with blood. In the dark, he hadn't had a clear shot, and by the will of Eru, the arrow had only hit him in the shoulder. It was anything but fatal, though it would put him out of commission for a month. He was thankful for that, but guilt still assailed him, tying knots in his stomach. He was such an idiot!

"This is awkward," Celebdil said softly, his voice barely audible over the storm. His comment was promptly ignored, as if he hadn't even said it. The red-haired Silvan scowled, but said nothing else. Humor obviously wasn't appreciated in this situation.

"What are you doing so far out from Lorien's borders?" Elrohir asked immediately, approaching the Marchwarden. Haldir hooked his bow on his back and shrugged, sighing loudly.

"That is a subject for another time, young lord," He answered tiredly, shrugging his pack off his shoulders. The Lothlorien guard ran a hand through his hair and looked around the small interior of the cave. He had expected as much. It was small, and there wasn't much room. But it would work. For a night, or a few more, considering they now had a wounded warrior. This shouldn't have happened. He should have taken better care of his team. They had been out later than they should, scouting and tracking. They had been on a search. And he had kept them out right until it began to rain. But after that, even with intentions of making it back to their posts, the storm had come too fast. It had literally swept them off their feet, and left them with only one choice. Run. So they had. Haldir had known of a cave out in that area, a place where it would be safe to wait out the storm. But it looked as if Elladan and Elrohir had the same idea. The blonde elf sighed loudly, glancing briefly in the direction of four horses. They were certainly settled in.

"We had heard you were coming, Sons of Elrond. However, we did not expect to see you so soon. Not while the numbers of orcs are rising near our borders."

"Rising?" Elladan asked wearily, leaning heavily on his sheathed sword. It was obvious he was favoring his right side, and seemed to be doing all he could to keep his weight off it. Which would have worked, had he not also been standing. Feeling a sharp sting, the older twin winced and shifted, pushing himself upwards to avoid straining the stitches. Another useless action, he realized as he felt warm blood leak down his ribs. This just wasn't working. Immediately, Thorondil came padding over and stood by his side, waiting patiently to be of assistance. However, when Elladan didn't give him any type of reaction—at least any that indicated he wanted help—the blonde elf awkwardly shuffled back to his original position. Haldir raised a pale eyebrow, watching them closely.

"Yes, Lord Elladan-"

"Don't... call me that." His words were small—not to mention hoarse—and heavily strained with exhaustion. Yet, there was no mistaking his tone. The Marchwarden threw his hands up defensively, a ghost of a smile crossing his features.

"I had forgotten that the descendants of Lord Elrond despise formality. It has been too long," Haldir replied warmly, and Elladan grinned, though it was partially forced. Pain wasn't exactly fun, and right now, his side burned with it. The last time they had seen the Marchwarden, they had just graduated to senior warriors and had stayed in Lothlorien for a few months. Haldir had been their guide, or in Arwen's words, their babysitter. Either way, the three of them had gotten to know each other well, and the twins had even met his younger brothers. Well, 'met' was a little bit of an overstatement. It was more of a... anonymous prank war. One that would hopefully go unmentioned for the remainder of their long lives. It hadn't been pretty, and he didn't even think Rumil and Orophin had figured out who was responsible, not really. Still standing quietly, with a grin on his face, Elrohir laughed softly.

"You remember that, do you?" He asked, red flushing his pale cheeks. The statement would not have warranted a reaction from just anyone, however, there was a good reason he looked the way he did. There had been an incident, including a dinner table, and a misaimed spoonful of potatoes... Haldir nodded slowly, something of a sly smile growing on his face.

"Well, as I see you have been wounded too, may I ask that we make conversation later? My Wardens need to settle."

 **THISPAGEBREAKISNTSHOWINGUP**

The storm was calming now—after many hours—though rain still poured down in buckets, flooding roads and streams. Paths were littered with fallen trees, debris and some were even blocked by heavy stones, rolled and tossed by the night's pervious wind. A hurricane. Something only ever seen once in a lifetime. The night had been bad and, even now, forests were flooded, so full with water that they resembled small swamps or rivers. In short, the lands were in waste. However, despite that, it was significantly better than the day before. It was calmer, it was peaceful, it was safe. Well, as safe as it could be. The sky overhead showed no sign of clearing and was still overrun with massive, swelling grey clouds. The atmosphere was rather bleak and miserable to be in. Cold, windy, and wet. Any travelers might have wished they would have never left home, or had at least stayed in an inn. Even the wild animals were hidden away, having fled to higher and safer ground. The ones who didn't were easily found underneath trees or rocks, bones stiffened from the cold, wet grip of death.

However, that didn't stop them from completing their mission. It didn't stop them from scouting the woods, hidden skillfully amongst the rubble. It was a simple inconvenience. Something that had to be overlooked and even ignored. They wouldn't stop in order to simply wait out the storm, even if it was deadly. They were sent this way for a reason, sent by their recently ascended lord. Disobey, and they would wish they were never born. They would beg for death. These were not the old days anymore, where the previous ruler, Lord Trest, had sent them on simple thieving missions. Missions to gather gold and jewels. This was something more. Something dangerous. They were hunting.

Trudging tirelessly through deep, icy slush, was a small group, dressed and veiled in black. The strange people navigated easily through the fallen trees, hidden roads and flooded streams. They were obviously trained, and trained well, added to the fact that they had probably been out all night. Valar only knew how they had survived. The odd group varied in size, some holding a smaller build, and some rather broad. Yet, despite their uncoordination, each had weapons, made more for an army than a simple traveling envoy. And though they were rather small and discreet, the bearers obviously knew how to use them, and use them well. Short swords, miniature crossbows, and even downsized bows were hooked on their belts, or swung over their shoulders. At least, those were the weapons that outsiders could see. No hunting party—or thieving crew—would be naive enough to lack insurance. No, in order to do their job, one had to have more than just a sword and a bow. Hidden carefully on their persons were hunting knives, throwing knives, extra bolts and arrows, and other such things.

"We should stop and rest." A tall, though rather thin man said softly, his voice considerably weary. He rubbed a hand over his face, leather glove brushing against his cowl. Another man, short and moderately built, hushed him, wincing.

"We don't stop. You know that," The stocky man replied, stepping over a fallen tree.

"But we've been at this for hours. Lord Amarthan can't seriously think we'll survive much longer. Even thieves such as ourselves need to sleep at some point."

The shorter human shrugged. "Well, if you can convince that thing up in the trees to stop, then I'd say we prepare lunch." At that, his stomach growled, and he winced. It was almost midday, though it was hard to tell by the clouds, and no one had eaten since the night before. Everyone was hungry, but no one wanted to anger their captain by suggesting they take a rest. Their leader hadn't allowed them to, or even rest since the mission had started. The Head Thief had been too focused on their mission. Too focused on what would happen if they failed to complete it. Or maybe the shady figure just didn't care what happened to the others. Some said it was a ghost, or some spirit conjured by Amarthan's ancestors to complete the work that they couldn't. Like keeping his city under his rule, or dealing out punishments to mercenaries, if he even cared about those anymore. It seemed that whenever the town was watched by the ghost, everyone seemed to eat out of the king's hand. It was scary, though none knew how it was accomplished. Bodies were never found, blood was never spotted, cries were never heard.

All they knew, was that this thing had been around longer than anyone, or that's what they had learned. No one they met could pinpoint a place in time where this creature had first appeared. No one knew when it had first come into the service of the king. It was just a tall, lithe figure in black, always watching, always waiting. Always ready to take a life. Some said it was simply an assassin, trained and bent to the king's will to do as he bidded. Every time one died, it was replaced by another one. But that couldn't explain everything. Especially when they had never actually seen the thing eat or sleep. Its voice was deep, though in a sense also light, and musical. Hypnotic, if there were no better term. And it never seemed to tire.

Suddenly the leaves above them rustled, and the shorter thief fell dead, limp body bobbing ominously in the shallows. A form landed beside them, feet hitting the water with a soft splash. The taller human froze in alarm, just daring to glance down at his soaking feet. His friend lay dead in the water, eyes staring glassily up at the sky. There was no trace of a wound. Nothing at all. It was the touch of the Ghost. The shorter man didn't even look as if he realized he'd been killed.

"You're not still tired are you? Hungry?" The man shook his head vehemently, barely finding the courage to look at the shady form, submerged in the shadows of day. It stood taller than he did, at least by a head, and it's face—if it even had one—was hidden deeply in the blackness of the cowl, body nearly blending in with the murky atmosphere. The Head Thief stared back at him, and then nodded.

"Good, because I've found who we're looking for... There are... a lot of them."

The tall thief, intent on holding his pride, straightened and crossed his arms. There were just a few things this 'Ghost' was forgetting. "But... if we're such a small crew, and there are tons of well trained elves, how do you expect to take them? Who are we supposed to take?" The cloaked prowler said nothing for a moment, though it was almost clear it had tensed.

"Deceit."

* * *

 **A/N: SO! This is really starting to pick up, isn't it? Stuffs gonna go down, and we haven't even scratched the surface of the mystery. My thief is so fun to write... Evil, but fun... XD Elladan and Elrohir have no idea what they're in for! XD I was thinking of starting each chapter with a quote that would fit the chapter in some way, would that be cool? Anyways, onto Review Replies!**

 _ **Review Replies:**_ __

 **Lord Illyren~** Heehe... My bad... Yeah, was that a really stressing chapter? XD I hope all your questions were answered!

 **LadyLindariel~** YES! Haldir is awesome, and will have a fairly big part in this. But don't worry troubles coming for them... actually, do worry... XD

 **SSD~**


	11. Introductions:

**A/N: Well, this was a very fun chapter to write. And I realized with everything going quite slow... that I needed something. In the chapter after this, things will pick up so fast, you will be shocked. SO, before hectic chapter, I decided, what could be better for character introductions then putting them all in a confined space and letting everything unfold? Why not let the poor guys let off some steam. So, this first part is the result of that. Tell me what you think!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OC Faegon, and any other OC in this.**

 **THANK YOU BLACKSHAFTEDARROW FOR BETA'ING THIS!**

 **Review Replies will be at the bottom!**

* * *

 _ **Chapter: 11**_

"So, what brings a Lothlorien patrol so far from their borders?" Elrohir asked suddenly, breaking the silence that lingered. Soft murmurs from the group stopped, and the room fell silent. The half elf sat up straight, arms rested casually on his knees. It was the question that had been on his mind for a while. Through all the silences, through all the idle chat, he still thought about it. And so did Elladan, if he guessed right. And even though it may not have been a big deal, it still bugged him. Were they traveling to Rivendell? Were they out on a scouting trip? Were they an envoy on their way to a human settlement? Were they out to meet his group halfway because of the storms? Haldir had mentioned the danger in crossing the borders at this time. It seemed logical enough. These were the things that went through his mind, these were the questions he needed answered.

Haldir looked up, lifting his gaze from the small fire. The blonde elf didn't look as if he expected such a question, though it could have been a trick of the light. However, he did seem... surprised. Even if the surprise wasn't enough, he also seemed irregularly calm. Or maybe that was misreading on his part. He had done it before, so it wouldn't have been a surprise if he did it again. There was no telling what an exhausted mind would think up. Before he could study further, the expression vanished, as if it had never been there. The blonde Ellon was particularly good at disguising his emotions. Something he had been used to when they had last met, the inability to tell what the other was thinking. Now that he saw him once more, it just seemed irritating. Around them, elves—from Rivendell and Lorien—sat in the circle, listening quietly to their captains speak. It was somewhat bleak. Despite the fire—which frankly wasn't doing much—everyone was cold, even for elves; and all wanted sleep.

But that would not come. Not tonight. Not until questions were answered. Riddles were solved. Not until Elrohir could easily put his mind to rest without the constant nagging of his curiosity. So they gathered around the fire, not completely sure what they were listening for. Or why they were still awake. What were they going to do? What was the plan when it was finally safe to travel? Even the Lorien elves,

with knowledge of their journey, stayed up. Perhaps it was curiosity on their side also? Perhaps not. But that hardly mattered. They just wanted to finish their work.

There would have been a bigger fire, but certain things indicated that it wasn't the best idea. Like the fact that there was no way to filter out smoke, or that a big fire meant that people would be able to see them. So, a small fire it was. Only enough to cook something, which they did not hesitate in doing. No one had eaten in a while, and it was clear everyone was starving. And regular rations just weren't going to cut it. So, bubbling gently over the small cooking fire, a pot of rabbit stew simmered.

Over near the far end of the cave, towards the back, Elladan—who had decided to sit the meeting out—knelt and tended to the Lorien elf who had been hit. Which, Elrohir had apologized profusely for. The elf looked like he would make a full recovery, and it definitely didn't look like he would be out of the job for long. The arrow hadn't gone all the way through. So, as far as injuries went, the Lorien guard was fairly well off. And hopefully, once the two were settled in, they would get some rest. Elladan—whether he admitted it or not—still needed sleep, and a good week to fully heal. Hopefully they would get it soon.

"We were tracking someone." Haldir began, piercing the silence once more. The blonde guard looked meaningfully at the younger twin, voice lowering.

"And you brought your whole unit to do it?" Elrohir asked in confusion, raising an eyebrow. A small smile flashed across his features, indicating he was teasing. Haldir rolled his eyes.

"We were going to split up," The marchwarden responded bluntly. "Rumil and Orophin were going to lead the patrol to find you. I put them in charge of making sure you made it back to Lothlorien safely." The two younger brothers—seated beside each other—nodded in confirmation. Taking in a breath, Haldir continued. "I was going to take two or three elves with me to continue following our quarry. We believe him to be a danger to himself and to us."

"He's not exactly been a friend in the first place..." Rumil noted solemnly, blue eyes firmly fixed on the floor. Haldir sent him a small glare, one that the younger brother ignored. It was obvious there was something he was missing. The two seemed to be touchy on the subject, as if they didn't entirely agree on something. Elrohir's brow furrowed, but he thought better than to ask questions. Haldir would explain sooner or later, and egging him on would not help.

"There's been... reports—" Rumil scoffed.

"There's been more than reports. We have the proof. He's been doing it for years. He betrayed us, he betrayed the whole kingdom!"

"Rumil!" Haldir snapped, turning on his youngest sibling. "Not here, not now. Please." Rumil's mouth closed and he bit his lip, eyes glinting. Easy for him to say, he thought sourly. The blonde elf wasn't sure he could hold it in much longer. Through the whole trip, the marchwarden had told him to keep his emotions in check. To save his anger for later. And he had. But how long would that last?

"As I was saying," Haldir continued, eyeing Rumil carefully. "There have been reports of thieving. Jewels, important information... The patrol rosters... Classified information has just vanished. We weren't sure who it was, though we had our suspicions... It turned out to be more than we thought. A friend... a dear friend, is our quarry."

"He's not so dear anym-!"

"Rumil! We need that information back, so we are after it. It shouldn't take long." Haldir shrugged wordlessly, watching the Elrondion's face as his expression changed from intent to guarded. The youngest son of Elrond seemed worried, forehead creased in concentration. Elrohir wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but it didn't seem like it would be so easily resolved. Not emotionally, or physically. That kind of stuff never was. Rumil let out a small huff, emotion getting the better of him; he stood and left, settling himself by the injured Lorien guard. It was the simplest thing he could do to calm his anger. The simplest thing he was doing. Save your anger for when we find him, Haldir had repeatedly told him, making the young guard scoff. If his brother truly wanted him to do that, than he would. He just couldn't promise that his old friend would be in the best shape when he saw him again.

Seated a few inches away, leaning on the hard stone wall of the cave, Elladan watched them. His silver eyes scanned the group with interest, hiding what would have been fatigue quite well. He obviously wished he had the strength to be in the conversation. However, now that the adrenaline had worn off, the young warrior was starting to feel the pains of exhaustion overwhelm him. So, forcing himself to stay alert, the oldest Elrondion settled for simply listening.

"How long has there been thieving going on?" Elrohir asked in concern. He didn't know Rumil that well—besides the occasional short conversation and formalities—but it was painful to see the younger elf so broken. Broken because of betrayal. And though he had never experienced it before—at least not to that extent—he knew how much it could change a person. Eventually, Orophin was the one to answer.

"For the last ten years. We didn't even notice until two years ago. And then we tried to find the culprit, thinking it was only jewelry theft. But he was good, and clever. No signs of his passing were left, and the guards didn't see anything. But slowly, he had been removing patrol reports from the record, and name lists started to disappear. After that, we narrowed it down to a handful of people. The people who were allowed in the vault." Orophin cleared his throat and shrugged, mentally beaten down by the year's events. "Now we're here..."

"Ten years, and you still failed to suspect the right person?" Elrohir winced, a silent groan breaking from his lips. Just when things had started to calm down. Orophin and Haldir look around, postures visibly stiffening. Haldir turned to the speaker, bemused that a fellow elf would jibe his friends so readily. Apparently, he hadn't met Faegon.

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused." Faegon smirked at him, eyes glinting in amusement. "And almost dumber than Elladan." He added, sighing loudly in—oddly enough—boredom. The elves around them froze, watching the proceedings carefully. Some even looked intrigued, while others seemed… insulted. Haldir paused, not entirely sure how to respond. Then the marchwarden straightened, eyeing the strange elf guardedly.

"I am sorry... I don't think we were introduced..." Beside him, Orophin began to rise from his seat, but Haldir waved him off. Elrohir ran a hand over his face and cringed, glaring sidelong at his peer.

"Faegon... shut up." He replied evenly, rolling his eyes to heaven. The son of Elrond spared Haldir and his brothers an apologetic glance, and turned back to the offending elf. This just wasn't the time. This wasn't the time to be arguing. Not now, not when so much was going on.

"Shut up? Is that little Elrohir I hear? Has the child finally grown into a commander? Do you not need Elladan anymore? Your so-called, almighty defender," He scoffed, the sound coming out in low laughter. Everything was all well for them. They were piecing together the parts of an exciting mystery. But everyone seemed to be ignoring the facts. The evidence that the Lorien elves were too dumb and slow to catch the right person. Well, to catch them in time. What made them think they'd do better at bringing him in? Was he the only practical person there? Or was he the only intelligent one? They were also missing the fact that he was actually rather bored. So, the simplest answer to that problem: start a fight. At least, it was simple enough for him. Elrohir turned red at his words, silver eyes blazing indignantly. Faegon seemed to take the cool anger as encouragement and continued, his earlier quarrel with Haldir forgotten.

"I always wondered when you would step up. I just didn't realize that it would take your brother being injured—at your hand nonetheless—to actually push you into a leader." Elladan looked up at that, breaking away from his drowsy state. He attempted to rise. Unexpectedly, it was Rumil who kept him down, arguing softly that aggravating his wounds would not help the situation.

"We've been through this, Faegon. That is not how it happened."

"Actually," the older interrupted, smiling infuriatingly. "I do not believe we resolved that conversation. You see, I was beginning to prove my point, until Blondie over here, came running in like a Warg on weed." He threw an annoyed glance at Haldir and smirked. The marchwarden awarded him with an icy stare, chilling enough to even keep the sons of Elrond in line. The problem was, any negative looks seemed to only encourage further jibes.

"Do you need to be so... narcissistic?" Elladan asked heatedly from the back of the cave, his fuse shortening. Red crawled up his cheeks and seemed to reach out to his ears, betraying his mood.

"Oh, Elrohir! It looks like your big brother has saved you once more!" Faegon exclaimed dramatically, laughing. Elrohir scowled. "But again, not too bright either," he added with a shrug. "Does the craven son of Elrond even know what narcissistic means?"

The Peredhel cocked his head to the side, giving a small, maddening grin. "Self centered. Conceited, arrogant... egotistic, vainglorious?"

Faegon scoffed. "Those are some big words, for one as thick as you. Did your Nana teach them to you? You know, before she abandoned you?"

Elladan's eyes darkened. Looking briefly to the cave roof, he mumbled a silent prayer to the Eru. Valar help Faegon if he suddenly had a burst of adrenaline. "That has nothing to do with this."

"She didn't abandon us!" Elrohir spat wrathfully, hands clenching tightly into fists. "For the millionth time in our lives... that is not what happened, and you know it."

Haldir, still standing off to the side, backed up a few paces, watching the proceedings with a wary eye. It seemed as if his group were not the only ones with problems. Emotional problems, that is. His group was just more stable than most. Maybe he was just better at keeping his troops in order? Whatever it was, they were beginning to worry him. He knew Elladan—even if it wasn't as well as he hoped—and understood well what kind of rage he felt. It had been years since Celebrian sailed, and even before that, an insult to his family was never taken lightly. At all.

Clearing his throat—and quite possibly summoning courage—Haldir stepped in, smoothly appearing between the two. It wasn't his choice decision, coming between the sons of Elrond and their enemy. But it had to be done. "I think it might be time for you to settle down." The chocolate-haired Ellon snorted, rolling his eyes dismissively at the warden. He wasn't afraid.

"And so, the mighty Lothlorien marchwarden steps in to save the defenseless and, lets face it, stumped, spawned half breeds," Faegon narrated, assuming a deeper voice. Elrohir's head snapped up, and he took a small step towards the guard, unconsciously lapsing into a defense position. Haldir saw it and cocked his head to the side.

"Faegon... is it? I know your name might mean 'bad spirit'—Valar knows how your mother had so much insight—but that doesn't mean you have to act like one." He gave Elrohir an uneasy shrug before turning back. "This argument is not doing anything for anyone rig-"

"It's entertaining me."

Haldir spared him a strange glance, but said nothing. For the first time in a while, the small tendrils of frustration were crawling up into his stomach. It was annoying. "That's not the point. The point is, you're bothering everyone els-"

"What if I don't care?"

"Stop interrupting me," Haldir snapped coolly, biting the inside of his cheek to smother his growing anger. Faegon saw this and grinned, the same infuriating expression as before. "You, penneth, need to shut up and be quiet. Is that clear?"

"So were playing house now, muinnaneth?" The Rivendell warrior challenged, tilting his head to the side. The guards grin only broadened when he sensed the frustration radiating off the marchwarden. Haldir ran a hand through his hair and lifted his eyes to the ceiling, mentally taking back his earlier thoughts. No, maybe he didn't keep his men in line better. The growing fact was, his troops didn't behave like this. They weren't so... obnoxious. Haldir glanced to Elrohir for help, but the twin still looked ready to strangle the other. It was probably best that he didn't give the younger Peredhel the chance to vent his anger. At least, not on a live person. So he searched for Orophin. His younger brother was sitting near the fire, watching them guardedly. He offered no help.

"This group is tired, this group is injured—"

"No thanks to our esteemed leader."

"—this group is miserable. And most of us are almost ready to kill you." This was obviously an exaggeration. However, how he saw it, it may not have been so far from the truth. For some people. "And unless you want a whole group of angry Lorien elves on your tail, chasing you out into the elements, I would sit tight, keep your mouth shut, and live with the boredom that you are trying so hard to quench."

Haldir raised both eyebrows inquiringly, crossing his arms over his chest. If this didn't work, he wasn't sure anything would. Well, anything that didn't involve violence. However, it wasn't to be. Faegon simply took a step forward, rising to his ultimate height—a few inches shorter than Haldir. His eyes spoke the obvious. This wasn't going down without a fight.

 _ **PAGE BREAK**_

 _He was there again... Wherever 'there' was. He wasn't sure where. The thought made him want to frown, if that was a logical movement. After all, he wasn't even sure he could be gifted that movement. He never was. It only made sense. He couldn't touch or feel, move or talk. He could only watch, think... look around. And nothing new ever met his... eyes. Everything always looked the same, the soul realized with a start. It never changed. Nothing did. It was strange, that he should come back to this place whenever he closed his eyes... And yet, this time, it was different. Very different. He was... aware. He knew who he was. He existed. That was new. The figure only wished that he had changed with it. As of now, he was nothing more than a spirit. A dark form of nothingness. A spot of black on an even bigger canvas._

 _Darkness surrounded him. A void of blurred smoke. It wreathed his body like a wool cloak, wrapping him securely in its grip. Its claws. It held no warmth. Instead, it pierced him with icy tendrils, tearing into his mind with blades of ice. Unforgiving, cold... talons. Claws. He writhed in pain, pulling and pushing in all directions. He was drowning. Frozen hands gripped his heart and he cried out. But there was no sound. The elf panicked. Another scream was torn from his throat, and yet again, there was nothing. Nothing but a burning sensation. A feeling that festered in his mind. A fire that began to spread to his chest, thrumming and pulsing with vigor. It hurt. His chest hurt. It stung as if some brutal animal had him in its massive jaws. But he couldn't scream. No one would hear him. Not from here. Not when he was held so tightly in the hand of death. The claws..._

Elrond awoke with a sharp gasp, sitting bolt upright in his makeshift bed. The elf's chest pounded up and down, his breath coming out in shudders. Once again, another vision—if you could call it that. Ever since he had left Rivendell, they had become more frequent. They had come to him every time he closed his eyes or dared to sleep. This time, however, he had decided to go to bed early in hopes that the nightmares wouldn't come. But it had proved useless. Every single night, every time he blinked, he saw it. Blackness. A haunting void of darkness that strayed beyond thought or mind. Something more than just the simple absence of light. The mere thought sent shivers down his spine, adding to another unnerving fact. From what he could piece together, these visions had no virtual meaning. All it told him was of pain, and loneliness. Someone was suffering. Someone was crying out, and no one could hear them.

The Lord of Imladris looked around wearily, realizing with a small sigh that he had barely been asleep half an hour. Daylight was waning; what could be seen of the sun was lowering beneath the horizon. The world was darkening. And he still couldn't find rest. He wouldn't find rest.

Outside his feeble shelter, Asfoloth stood patiently, rain dripping down his white, velvety nose. Blue eyes met his, and the animal nickered, the sound barely registering in the elf lord's drowsy mind. It was a greeting, one that he had come to know well. Whenever he left, whenever he told Asfoloth to stay, the horse obeyed. However, when he came back, Asfoloth welcomed him with a low whinny or neigh. The sound was almost endearing, and he understood why Glorfindel loved it so much. The horse just made you feel... lighthearted. The animal had a unique ability to tear your focus away from the bad, and help you focus on the good. And the beast couldn't even talk.

They had camped under a tree—maybe not the smartest thing to do in a storm—finding it to be the safest shelter after a hurricane like that. It was bemusing. The last time he had seen a storm with that much power had been in the early Third Age. A long time ago. It had been so bad that he had taken Asfoloth to a very small, very cramped cave and settled down for the night. However, now they were much further from such shelter, and the best he could do was an A-shaped tent. Glorfindel's steed had to make do under the cloudy sky.

Elrond rose, using both sides of the 'tent' to aid him in standing. Seeing as how he was in a rather awkward position, it was harder than he initially thought. With a grunt, the Peredhel pulled himself to his feet, wincing at the stiffness of his limbs. Sitting in the freezing night air, with no fire to keep warm—

added to the fact he was on the forest floor—was not very healthy for one's limbs. No matter how young you were—or felt. The elf lord swerved around to Asfoloth's side and patted the horse with one hand.

"Sleep eludes me tonight, loyal friend." As always in such dark times. "What would you say, if we rode on through the night?" Asfoloth's blue eyes glinted, and if a horse could, he seemed to narrow them in thought. Then, the stallion bobbed his head vehemently, a whinny following shortly after. Elrond grinned, or tried to. A smile wasn't the easiest thing at the moment. Not when his sons were out there, in more danger than they realized. Indeed, in more danger than he knew himself.

* * *

 **A/N: How was that? Good? The argument was good right? Good to let them let off their anger and steam?**

 **Translations:**

 _Peredhel - Half elf_

 _Muinnaneth - Mother dear (or my version of it. If anyone knows something that I do not, please tell me)_

 _Penneth - Little One_

 _Did I miss any elvish translations that I should have translated?_

 _ **Review Reply:**_

 _ **Lord Illyren:**_ (sorry if I spelt that wrong) Yeah, really awkward... XD


	12. Into The Shadows

**A/N: HEYYYY! Well, here's the next chapter! Is it rushed? I am not sure... *frowns* All I am saying, is it gets ugly from here...**

* * *

 ** _Chapter 12_**

Faegon smirked at the Lothlorien elf, leaning casually to the side. The gesture seemed to speak clearly, and his eyes held a simple message. They dared him to back away. Dared him to leave the argument unfinished. It was more than a challenge, and he could see Haldir knew that. He knew it well. _Not as thick as I assumed,_ he thought with a scoff. The blonde elf held his gaze evenly, seemingly unfazed. Uncaring.

It was almost like he understood-no, no one understood. Or at least he knew what Faegon was trying to do. He knew what was coming. And yet, for the life of him, he could not read anything else in the Silvan's eyes. They remained steady, and failed to give away his thoughts. It was annoying, and the brown haired elf gritted his teeth. Some people were no fun. Some people were just too tolerant. It wasn't like there was anything else to do, and everyone was far too tense. There was left no room for any enjoyment. He sighed softly, resolve hardening. Why did every elf he met have to be friends with the twins? Or at least know them. Were they that great? Were they really so likeable that everyone loved them? If they were, he didn't see why. He didn't see why someone so privileged as them should get so much attention. So much love.

And now there were millions of other useless wood-elves who thought the same. Could they not see it? Could they not see the arrogance? The darkness? Or was he the only one who could? Was it so well hidden that no one else could find it? He didn't understand. They were no different. No different from other nobles he knew. Nobles like his father. Cold, arrogant and pitiless. The twins were the same, deep down inside, and he knew it. He could see it. He could see what was there from their childhood. From before Celebrian sailed. The thing that only came out when she did. It wasn't just him, he had to believe that. He wasn't the only one who saw this. The shadow. The ominous thing that fueled grief, that pushed emotions, and made people do unthinkable things.

It was uncanny-though not unpleasant-that someone such as them would suffer through that. That the rich would be forced to endure hardship. Maybe that was just him, maybe he didn't understand. Faegon grinned at the thought. No, he really _did_ understand.

"What, is the prissy wood-elf dumb? Can he not talk?" Faegon asked. Haldir barely stifled a scoff, causing Faegon to redden. He honestly didn't know why he was picking this fight. But of course, that wasn't new. Indeed, he never understood why he started most fights. It was a simple reaction, something natural to him. Like a warrior tensing on instinct. Whatever reason he had at first, was long forgotten, or simply pushed to the side. Well, either that, or it was a mere thought in the back of his mind, fueling his jibes and insults.

"Well, if I am, than that means all conversation earlier was simply a voice in your head," The marchwarden replied dryly, rolling his eyes. He knew that he shouldn't be encouraging this fight, but it just slipped. Was he spending too much time around Celeborn and his dry humor? "If you're going to act like a child, I will treat you like one." Over by Elladan, someone snorted. But the culprit quickly masked it, using the laughter around him to hide. Haldir rolled his eyes. He knew who it was. He'd know that laugh anywhere. The mere mirth within was a dead give away, and Rumil had suffered that threat too many times to count. Orophin, on the other hand, was failing to hide the reddening of his ears in the dark room.  
Faegon stepped up into Haldir's face, and the marchwarden stood his ground.

"A child? I wouldn't go that far, Blondie. But I am angry," Faegon locked eyes with the Lorien elf, hands balling into fists. "And you may not be happy that I am."

"Oh no," muttered Orophin, burying his face in his hands.

"Sit down little one, you're making a scene," Haldir replied bluntly, all humor vanishing from his face. He raised a hand to push the hostile Ellon away. And Faegon's reaction was of instinct. The Rivendell warrior leaned to the side, ducking away and allowing Haldir to stumbled forward. He turned around, punching the wood-elf in the face. A crack echoed in the cave, the force snapping Haldir's head to the side, and pain exploded in his mouth. Teeth suddenly became numb, and just as quickly, began to throb, the agony blurring his senses. The room fell silent, and Haldir rotated his jaw... tasting blood. A lot of blood. He let out a long breath, the sound emerging in a shudder. A shudder of anger. Standing over him, Faegon smirked, watching in amusement as the blonde elf straightened, lips pressed into a thin line. He looked at the Rivendell elf through a film of pale hair, and the Silvan's blue eyes glinted.  
Orophin moaned.

"Oh Valar," Someone said.

"Are you gonna fight back Blondie? Or are you my new punching bag?" As if to emphasize his point, the warrior directed another blow at the warden's face. It was powerful; the youth was skilled.  
But Haldir caught it.  
Faegon lurched to the side, forced into steadying himself versus falling. And the chocolate haired elf paused, blinking, and looked up and down without comprehension. His brow creased in confusion. His punch hadn't made it. _What?_ The warrior looked at his hand once more, raising both eyebrows. He couldn't... move it...  
Then he looked up, meeting Haldir's gaze. The elf was smiling at him. It was almost pleasant. Unnerving. The warden cocked his head to the side, gesturing with his eyes to where he held the others fist, blocking it from reaching his nose. The implication was lost to the other elf, and in his sudden clarity, he tried to free himself, anger rising.  
A mistake. Haldir reacted instantly, pulling sharply on the others arm and sending him flying. He sidestepped the movement, using Faegon's momentum to force him to his knees. Barely a second wasted, he jerked the warrior's arm behind his back, angling it painfully upwards. The Lorien elf's free arm then wrapped around the neck, locking him in a choke-hold. Faegon struggle, wincing in pain.

"You just can't take a warning, can you?" The marchwarden hissed, tensing against the youth's struggles. Faegon sent him a poisonous glare, cursing loudly.

"Not from you, Blondie. That's not my style." He rasped, attempting to speak. A defiant grin graced his features, and he jerked to the side, hoping to loosen Haldir's grip. A useless action. Elrohir was up in a flash.

"Haldir, release him. This is not making anything better," The younger twin said, chewing his lip. Anger unchecked, Haldir spared his friend a small glance of consideration, briefly catching the grins that Elladan and Rumil threw his way. Then he let go. Faegon crashed forward, the ache in his arm hindering him from saving himself, and he hit the floor. The youth coughed harshly. Haldir allowed a small smirk and raised a hand to his jaw, rubbing it. There wasn't much damage; a few bruises and a small abscess on the left side of his cheek, filling his mouth with blood. He'd been through worse. Orophin, running a hand through his blonde hair, took a breath to say something. He was interrupted.

"Did you hear that?" Rumil asked, sitting up in alarm. Haldir's brow furrowed and he looked around, motioning quickly for silence. Whispers and laughter stopped. There it was again, loud and clear, ringing hauntingly in the falling rain. Screaming.

"What is that?"

"It sounds like a girl... screaming." Faegon said dryly through an aching throat. The others threw him glares, and the warrior shrugged. Gliding across the room, Elrohir went for his pack, swinging it over his shoulders.

"Where are you going?"

"To find her. If she's hurt, we can't leave her die. And if she isn't, I still wish to know what enemies surround us. A scouting trip is long overdue," he replied, sheathing a small hunting knife at his waist. Haldir considered this for a moment and nodded, shouldering his bow and quiver. He didn't want to stay in the cave with Faegon anyway, and Elrohir could hardly scout alone. Rumil and Orophin stood to do the same, but their brother forestalled them.

"We can handle it. We don't need everyone coming. A crowd would draw attention," The oldest explained, heading towards the mouth of the cave, Elrohir by his side. Elladan climbed to his feet also and began to follow, grabbing his sword and knife. His younger brother whirled around, holding out a hand.

"El, no. Stay here and rest. You can barely wal-"

More screams. They echoed louder this time, seeming to form themselves into desperate, terrified words. Elladan raised an eyebrow. "I want to come. Fresh air will help, and I can walk just fine. Time is waning." Elrohir hesitated, gritting his teeth together in frustration as Elladan shoved past him. He would need another healer, depending on how bad the injuries were. And from his knowledge, Haldir didn't know half of what he and his brother did. There wasn't time to stay and argue, and the horror-filled wails made his mind up for him. He groaned softly.

"Haldir, make sure he doesn't keel over," the younger Peredhel said, ducking out into the elements. He pulled his hood up as rain battered on top of him, naturally overtaking his hobbling brother. Haldir and Elladan continued to follow. No matter what the older twin thought or said, it was clear he was still in pain. He walked with the slightest limp, and he seemed to wince whenever he took a step. The three hurried out into the flooded forest, plodding along as fast as they could.  
"I swear, that elf has some problems," Haldir muttered lowly, eyes fixed on the floor as he stepped over a root. Both legs landed firmly back into the calf-high water. Elladan looked back at him, grinning mildly.

"Yeah... he's not easy to deal with at all." Elladan's hand felt his side, delicately inspecting his wound. The movement strained his stitches, making him cringe. "My Adar once tried to find a way to help him, and the only good it did, was make the elf hate us even more." Ahead, Elrohir sighed.

"Why did you bring him?" The warden asked.

"Glorfindel... he thought it might help my relationship with him. I don't see how that's happening. It seems to only make it worse." Haldir snorted and shook his head.

"Glorfindel meant well, I am sure... Sometimes ideas don't always go to plan, and who knows, maybe Glorfindel has more foresight than you give him credit for. He always did tend to unnerve me when he came to Lothlorien. He may not realize it, but he can be rather unsettling when he wishes."

"Oh, he knows it." Elrohir said from the front, silver eyes fixed on the road ahead. His ears picked up weakened yells, and he quickened his pace. He wondered how they had time for conversation when someone could be dying? "That's why he does it. Some sick sense of humor." Haldir laughed softly, offering his hand to Elladan when the older brother tried to step over a log. As expected, Elladan refused it.

"So what happens if Faegon decides to pick on your brothers while we're gone?" Elladan asked, brushing off his prideful response to the other's assistance. He knew it was uncalled for, and he knew Haldir just wanted to help, but he wanted to walk on his own. He hated being mother-henned.

Haldir shrugged and tried to hide a small smile. "They will likely discard the restraint I had used. Rumil is already emotionally torn a-" He stopped when they came to a grove of fallen trees. Elrohir had his sword out, but there was no danger. At least not for them. Elladan gasped. A girl, very obviously human, lay in a pile of tangled limbs on the floor. She was trapped under a fallen tree, everything but her head and shoulders under water. Black hair clung to her delicate features, plastered on by water and blood. The red liquid ran from a gash on her head, down her forehead and jawline, and into the water below. She was weak, hardly able to hold herself above the flooded ground. And alone. While the twins rushed over, Haldir was immediately on guard. The odds of one woman so far from home, trapped in a hurricane and dying not so far from their cave was alarming.

"Ai, marchwarden, lover of trees, help me with _this_ tree," Elrohir called, though despite his words, his tone held little humor. The young woman cried out for help once more, her voice quiet and wearied. Elladan stood off to the side, unable to lift because of his stitches. His brow was creased in thought, and the older twin's arm hovered near his sword. He had obviously come to the same conclusion. These were odd circumstances. Haldir quickly splashed his way to the other side, lifting the log away. The girl let out a cry of pain when the weight was removed, and Elrohir paled.

"This isn't good." He said as he lifted her head from the water. Her once pale blue dress was covered in blood, and Elrohir didn't have to do much examining to see that she had broken ribs. Thinking quickly, Haldir took off his cloak and rolled it into a tube, placing it beneath the girl's head. Her breath came out labored, and her brown eyes watched them blearily. Whatever was the case with the girls story, her injuries were real enough. "We can't move her, it's too risky. If I can get back to the cave and use our supplies to make a litter, we can get her to drier ground, but only once we know she can be moved." He stood, looking carefully at his two companions.

"We can't do much to save her unless we have the proper supplies." Elrohir felt like slapping himself. They were out in a hurricane for Valar's sake, why had he not anticipated someone being crushed? "Haldir, assist Elladan in any way you can, and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. I'll be back."

The younger twin unslung the pack from his shoulders and handed it to Elladan. Not that it would do much good. There were very few bandages left, and most of the herbs had been in his pack when his horse had bolted. He just hoped they would have her ribs set by the time he got back. That way, they would be able to move her quickly and with little problem, giving the human another chance at living. Elladan and Haldir wasted no time and were on the ground in seconds, letting their guards down due to urgency. And that's when it happened. Like shapes emerging from the nothing, they were suddenly surrounded. Black-cloaked forms bent their bows, aiming at the elves chest. The girl had fallen unconscious, eyes closing in exhaustion, unaware of her new danger. One figure-people he guessed to be bandits-walked up to them, his arrow directed at Elrohir's head. Elladan stiffened, and he and Haldir traded a glance. Both raised their hands and stood, freezing when seven arrows turned their way. The one in front of Elrohir cocked his head to the side and removed his cowl. Bearded and large, he sneered at them.

"Where's the rest of you?" He asked, stepping forward. Elrohir's hand left his sword hilt and he stepped back, eyeing them carefully. How had they come upon them at unawares? How had he not picked up their movement? They were humans after all. Very light-footed humans.

"Who are you?" Elladan asked in return, straightening. The man laughed roughly and shook his head.

"That's not your question to ask, boy." He growled, jabbing Elladan in the side with his bow. The older twin held back a cringe and shifted away, feeling the sting of an opening wound. The human looked them over, curiously, as if he was waiting. He looked as if he wasn't quite sure for what. In a blur of shadow, someone dropped from a tree, and they landed silently in a crouch. The three elves took a step back, bemused. Where had that person come from? Once again, Elrohir wanted to slap himself. Was there any reason he couldn't detect these men's movement. Was someone that good that they could avoid the senses of an elf? Was that possible, or had it been his mistake? Elladan's mistake? Haldir's mistake?

As graceful as a dancer, the figure straitened, face hidden by the cowl. "I thought I told you to knock them out?" It said softly, approaching them. Like a ghost, it made no sound, and Elladan's brow furrowed. _What?_ The men surrounding them buzzed in conversation, a low, thoughtful sound. There were many of them, almost twelve or thirteen if he counted correctly. They had a chance out of this, if he could find his brother. Elladan turned his head, silver eyes instead, finding the girl. Even from his distance he could tell that she had stopped breathing. The Peredhel felt a pang of regret. A feeling that was quickly replaced by pain. The agony sprouted in the back of his head, and darkness came.

* * *

Asfoloth galloped. The animal's hoof beats were quiet despite the water below him. Any higher, and the horse wouldn't have been able to run in the first place. But he did. Out of the urgency of his master, and of his own will. Elrond stroked his head, whispering words of encouragement. They had been running since late last night, and he had not found the time to stop for a break. Indeed, he didn't know if that was possible. Now Asfoloth ran solely on his will to keep going. They had lost the trail that they had been following when the last rain had come. It washed away any sign that his sons had been there. So that left one simple way. And that was to go to Lothlorien. Once again, Elrond had doubts. What if he was overreacting? What if there was no problem, and his sons had made it safely to Lorien's borders? What if his dreams meant something else?

And then once again he found himself more concerned than rational. It would be better to find out and have actual evidence than it would to simply go back home. His mind was made. So they continued to move.  
Suddenly Asfoloth stumbled, and the horse skidded to a stop. It was followed by a pained whinny, and the steed reared, desperately trying to keep his feet. Caught off guard, the Elf Lord was nearly thrown. He wrapped his arms around the horse's neck and kicked his feet free from the stirrups, sliding easily off the animal's back. Asfoloth pawed the ground guiltily, shoulders heaving. The horses breath came out in puffs and wearied, blue eyes stared apologetically at Elrond.

"No, it's not your fault." He said breathlessly and fell into a crouch. "It's mine, I am sorry." Elrond ran his hands down each leg, and stopped at the left hind leg. It was only slightly swollen. Asofloth flinched when the healer touched it, muscles rippling beneath his muddied coat. The healer felt a twinge of guilt, and looked away from those pained eyes. _This horse just finds more and more ways to act like an elf, including making people feel bad._ "I am sorry for running you so hard, Asfoloth." Elrond continued, and closed his eyes. He let his healing energy flow into the horse's leg, and the animal calmed, the pain leaving. It wasn't much, but it would get them to Lothlorien.

"I can't do much, not now," he mumbled, standing. It wasn't like he could exhaust himself here and then have nothing to go on later. He wasn't even sure why he had said it aloud. _I sound like Glorfindel now, always talking to his horse when no one's around..._ They would have to walk the rest of the way. And what a long walk that would be.

* * *

 **A/N: What did you think? The scene between Haldir and Faegon was the best thing to write! I enjoyed it so much! XD**

 _ **Review Replies:**_

 _ **LadyLindariel:** HAHAHAHA! Well, I guess you've seen what happened now! XD He went alone! XD The friend that was thieving will play a vital role in this story, and he will be mentioned in the next chapter. _

**_LordIllyren:_** _HAHA! They should! That would be amusing... Well, looks like a painful choke hold has done the trick! XD_

 ** _SSD_**


	13. A Ghost Or Something Else?

**A/N: HEYYYYYYYYYYYYYY! I am back! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Here's the next chapter!**

 ** _Chapter 13_**

The sun sank slowly down the horizon, red beams staining the sky in a blur of deep crimson. The rare anomaly would have been very beautiful, had he not been so tired. Now it was just another reminder of forty-eight hours without decent sleep. Elrond sighed, his tired body somehow recognizing that they had arrived and slowly coming to a halt, steps faltering. He winced and peered through the golden forest, staggering; the wood that seemed to look the same at every angle. A minor illusion caused by exhaustion. After two days of walking, they had arrived, tired limbs screaming for rest. Now he would have it, at least as soon as he knew his sons were alright.

The Lord of Imladris wearily trudged forward, Asfaloth following loyally with his head held high. Ahead loomed the building he had been anticipating since starting off, Caras Galadhon. A warm flet with food and water and a proper bed was flooding his mind. He felt as if he couldn't reach his destination quickly enough. The horse let out a soft whinny and bobbed its head, keen senses recalling the scent of food and the sensation of fresh water. Elrond was grateful for the animals help. Had it been his own steed, they would still be riding hard. Yet, the two had made remarkable time. Now, he only had to make it up the steps. Elrond shook his dark head and, using his remaining sense of discipline, plodded up the stairs. Below, Asfaloth began to graze.

The moment the half elf stepped into the house, something was off. Elrond frowned. The place felt... heavy. If that was the correct term. Suddenly alert, a sick feeling arising in his stomach, the elf Lord looked around. The palace in the trees was large, and the most logical way to find someone in a house that big, was to narrow down the places they might be to a minimum. Or yell their names.

"Galadriel! Celeborn!" He called while walking up a small flight of stairs. The Lord and Lady -especially at this time of night- would likely be sleeping, or in a conference room. The realm had been dealing with increasingly worrying amounts of orcs at the borders. Therefore, there were only two possibilities. The steps led him to an office, a large table sitting in the middle, surrounded by chairs. Galadriel was seated randomly, back straight, blue eyes focused on the subject of conversation. Celeborn was at the head of the table, leaning over a chair to face the front of the room, as opposed to sitting down.

Elrond sighed with relief, a feeling that was almost immediately replaced by dread. He recognized Haldir's younger brothers, Rúmil and Orophin standing at the front of the room. They were in the middle of a sentence when they noticed him and the low conversation died away. Four pairs of eyes turned. "What's wrong?" Elrond asked. "Where are my sons?" Rúmil, the younger of the two, looked hard at the floor, a pained wince flashing across his features.

"Elrond?" Galadriel asked, standing in surprise. Rúmil and Orophin seemed even more shocked then her. The two shifted uneasily, and Celeborn flashed his son in law look. A look that spoke ill. It almost seemed as if he was upset, or simply frustrated. The half elf took an unconscious step back. He knew the anger wasn't directed at him -at least not that he knew- but it didn't fail to make him panic. The Sindar glanced back at the two warriors, gesturing with his eyes for them to continue, or at least recount their words for Elrond. Rúmil hesitated.

"We were searching for them, to escort them back safely... and a storm found us." Orophin made eye contact with the raven haired elf, and the guilt in his eyes was overwhelming. Elrond found he had to look away. "Our group found shelter in a cave, where your son's happened to be taking shelter." Celeborn and Galadriel were staring at the floor, and it was obvious Orophin was reciting his story from memory. The Lord and Lady looked sick.

"Where are they now?" Elrond asked, heart pounding in his chest. He must have looked a mess, because Galadriel stole one frantic glance at the soft, carpet floor. Elrond hesitated, and then decided his mother in law's wrath wasn't worth it, and stepped out.

This time Rúmil spoke. "Well, the last we saw of them... Elladan was injured... They went out to scout the perimeter with Haldir, and never came back. We went to look for them an hour later. There were signs of a struggle, and a body of a young woman. That's all." Rúmil cursed under his breath and his hands clenched into fists, a sign of built up rage.

Elrond couldn't bring himself to ask why the young elf was so angry, and he felt his heart sink. "And what of their companions?"

"The three are in their own flet, resting." Galadriel explained, blue eyes studying her son in law.

"Three?" He asked, cocking his head to the side. There should have been four. Somehow, the facts weren't lining up. There wasn't enough information, and the thought made Elrond's head hurt. There was just too much, and he was too tired to deal with it.

"Celebdil, Thorondil and Braignes." Orophin confirmed, running a hand over his tired eyes, and seeming pained. It could not have been easy, admitting a failure that large. Especially when it was the grandsons of their Lord and Lady. "The fourth, and the one I will _never_ forget, we could not find." He gestured lightly to his bruised cheek bone. "He wanted to be alone, he said, and tried to leave. I tried to stop him..." The older brother winced and smiled. "He's got a mean swing, and we spent a whole day searching for him."

"If we had to make a guess." Rúmil interrupted, "I would say he was taken by whoever found your sons. But again, it is only a guess."

 _Valar, my visions are real,_ Elrond thought tiredly, grey eyes edging on panic. He knew his visions had meant something, just not that. Faegon, his sons; it all had to mean something more. He didn't know what, but there had to be more to it than just a simply hostage situation. "Wait... why was there a whole patrol sent to escort my sons?"

Galadriel and Celeborn shared a look. After a moment, and Elrond guessed they were communicating telepathically, Galadriel cleared her throat and winced.

"Close the door." He did as asked and eased the door closed, shutting it firmly. After a moment of silence, the Lady of Light spoke. "The patrol was going to split. Haldir was going to continue forward as Rúmil and Orophin and a few others escorted your son's home. Haldir was tracking a criminal."

Elrond's brow furrowed. "A criminal? In Lórien?" He asked, confused.

Rúmil's cheeks flushed red. "We didn't know it was him. He made friends with people of high status, and worked his way up in rank rather quickly." The youngest brother said softly.

 _Ah,_ Elrond thought sadly. _Betrayal by a friend._

"He then snuck into the vaults and took some important papers and gold, and then ran. Ran like a coward!" Orophin put an arm on his brother's shoulders, attempting to calm him but obviously hurt himself. Whoever this elf was must have been really close to them, close enough to be trusted. Close enough to betray.

"Actually," Celeborn said, speaking for the first time. "He was stealing long before that, and covered it up with great skill. The elf was crafty. If we don't get those papers back before the wrong person reads them, Lórien's defenses will be known to everyone. Where we put our soldiers, shift changes, where we are the weakest, their skill. They'll even have names and specifics. They will have a profile on each warrior, every special mission ever planned. Everything someone would need to plan an attack. Or a siege. Someone wants to attack us, and whoever they are, they were very thorough. I mean... to wait a that long and plant an elven spy in our ranks. They have to be desperate. They waited a thousand years to strike, which means if they're human, it must be a deep seated feud. But the way they are setting up this attack is unlike anything I've ever seen."

Elrond frowned. Something about that didn't sound right. Someone had been hunting them for a thousand years? The information was solid, there was proof. But the half elf felt something was wrong. He wasn't sure what.

"Which is why we are going to send out scouts. We want to know where they were taken, and where those papers are." Rúmil fought to hide a yawn, which failed, and Galadriel's eyes softened. They were all exhausted and stressed.

"We'll do it in the morning. Some of us need sleep after long weeks of travel." She caught Elrond's eyes and he thought he saw something in them. Unease. If he didn't know any better, he'd say it was the same feeling he was having. Rúmil and Orophin bowed and turned to leave. Elrond stayed where he was, and kept eye contact.

 _There's something they're not telling me... but what?_

* * *

It hurt. An ache as large as Middle Earth itself took residence in his mind, pulsating in a chaotic rhythm, one that held no pattern. It seemed to fade every once in a while, but then came back with even more fury than before. He groaned, or at least that's what he wanted to do. The world was black, red clouds seeping into hazy vision and a wave of nausea swamped him, threatening to tear his stomach in two. Elladan would have vomited, if he wasn't trapped between a black void of sleep and the painful reality of light. So all he could do was groan. A nudge in the ribs -cracked ribs- made him cry out and cloudy grey eyes snapped open. Pain made the world swim, blending into a blur of colors, voices and noises around him fading out. Fading into a monotonous hum.

"Get up!" Someone was shouting, but the rest of their words were lost. Elladan blinked sluggishly, vision darkening. Someone wanted him to get up. Someone needed him. But what was wrong? The half elf wracked his memory for the voice, tossing back in forth in an attempt to clear his mind. But it failed. Slowly, he sunk back into unconsciousness.

"EL!" Elladan was forced awake. The Peredhel flinched, chest threatening to explode as he sat bolt upright. He let out another cry, a mixture of panic and agony. Yet it died in his throat as the elf was forced into reality. At least, that's what he thought had happened. He wrapped an arm around his torso, breathing heavily. The floor was cold... hard. The older twin blinked in confusion, his free hand feeling along the ground. Where was he? Blinking drearily, he looked around, the black spots in his vision seeming to fade. In a moment, only by the grace of elven sight, he was able to make out his surroundings. Rock walls, rolling up into a dome-like roof; dripping water. The ground was damp, the old straw decomposing into slush. A cavern, it seemed to be, though not a big one. Elladan shook his head, attempting to sit up and put a hand on his forehead. Something prevented him from doing so. Everything was so silent, an even thrum in the back of his mind.

"ELLADAN!" Hearing kicked in. Elladan jumped with a yell of surprise, peering around in alarm. Grey eyes met grey, and suddenly everything came back. Sensations, senses, taste, touch. Everything. Elrohir sat with his back to a wall, hands bound together by chain cuffs. A gash above the eyebrow sported dry, crusty blood that cover a good part of his face.

"Where are we?" Elladan asked, lowering himself back down to the ground. Everything ached.

Elrohir grimaced, shrugging. "I don't know... no one's come to tell us."

"Us?" Elladan asked confused.

"El, you nearly slipped into a coma. You scared me to death." His younger brother attempted to slide over, but a rattle of metal explained the predicament. "You need to stay awake, and stay still." Elladan nodded slowly. It explained the headache. Someone must have hit him pretty hard.

"What happened?" He asked, raising both shackled wrists to cover his eyes. There was no light, but the action would help him grasp reality.

Elrohir shrugged, though Elladan couldn't see him. "I don't think I know any more than you. We were scouting ahead... we were attacked... and then... this." The raven haired elf gestured to their surroundings. The brothers sighed simultaneously, both too exhausted to do much; though there wasn't much to do. Indeed, they weren't sure they _could_ do anything, except maybe panic. That wouldn't help.

"Well, we could plan an escape... or we could just be lazy." A dryly amused voice said from a corner.

Elladan froze, brow furrowing. He had assumed that corner was empty. Elrohir sighed.

"Faegon? How did you get here?" Elladan pushed himself to a sitting position, nausea nearly causing him to collapse.

Faegon smirked in the darkness, an action that went unseen. Yet, if they could have seen it, he might have had the grace to blush. "I followed you into the forest... then hid in a tree. That tall cloaked figure found me when I tried to flee." There was a rustle of heavy chains and Faegon grunted in pain. Silence reigned.

"How did we not see you?" Elrohir asked, though it was more to himself.

Faegon seemed to snort. "By being totally unaware idiots. Even Blondie, a trained Silvan, didn't spot me." The brown haired elf shifted again, muttering something about more comfortable dungeons. "I grew up hiding. I think I could remain unseen if I wanted."

Elladan slowly looked around, groaning when his head swam. Something about this didn't make sense.

"Where's Haldir?" He asked, sitting up straighter.

Faegon shrugged, rolling his green eyes in annoyance. "Tall, scary hooded figure came and got him. He said something about questioning. Interrogation maybe?" The warrior smiled, an expression Elladan could only just see in the darkness. Elladan felt his heart sink and he winced. Interrogation? So this wasn't a hostage situation. Whoever ran this thing wanted something. But what could they possibly want?

"That... _thing_ was alarmingly fast..." Elladan said softly, forcing his mind back to more practical things. He looked at Elrohir, "you think it was an elf?" Elrohir shrugged. The three were unusually calm despite their problems. Faegon was doing it to be infuriating, Elladan knew. Elrohir was simply trying to think straight, and he himself was almost too tired to care.

"It seems so. He... was fast, like you said. The thing is, he was faster than I've seen anyone be, elf or man." Elrohir scanned the darkness of their cave with narrowed eyes, as if trying to spot something. "The only elf that could match that would be Glorfindel... But, I don't think even Glorfindel could beat those instincts." Elrohir smiled uneasily. "He's like a ghost."

There was a sound. The twins became alert immediately. First nothing happened, and then the room boomed and its occupants flinched. Stone grinding against stone, metal latches screeching. It was simple, a door was opening. Elladan cringed, but searched for the source. After a moment, a beam of candle light gave up its location. Surprisingly, the door was above them, mockingly low, yet still unable to be reached. The light that filtered through revealed a pit, and the exit was five feet above their heads. The elves winced and hid their eyes, dim illumination stinging their senses. There was a groan, and from hindered sight, Elladan saw someone drop. A body hit the floor with a light thud, and the older twin cringed. It was immediately replaced by panic.

Someone dropped in after, landing quietly in a crouch and staying as still as stone. Elladan wasn't sure if it was even there and blinked a few times. Yet after a moment, the thing gracefully rose, movements slow as if moving through water. At its full height it emitted an air akin to evil and the older twin shivered. He didn't have to be a genius to know who it was and watched it closely. The figure, tall and ghostly, stood there for a moment, as if bored and tired. Elladan continued to stare, unable to look away. Then it turned.

As fast as lightning the thing moved, freezing in a half stride. It looked straight at him. Yet... there was no gaze to hold. Elladan found himself staring into a dead void of shadow, the humanity that should have been there lost in the depths of a black cowl. He wasn't sure how much time had gone by before the ghostly thing resumed its original task and picked the body up. Without a word it drug the limp form across the room as if it were a doll and cast it into a corner.

The surreal experience made Elladan shiver. He wasn't even sure what had happened. What was assumed to be rational, seemed more like a ghost than possible and the older twin unconsciously scooted backwards. Elladan stiffened, heart rate rising as the ghost looked at him once more. Again, there was no proof the thing was even human and Elladan found himself looking away. There was shifting and clanking and the dark figure shot up to the ledge and disappeared. Eyes locked on where the ghost had been, Elladan felt a shiver go down his spine. Not a sound, not a word. The thing was gone, leaving no evidence it had been there in the first place.

"Haldir!" Elrohir shouted and Elladan jump out of his skin. In a heap of limbs, the Silvan groaned softly and lapsed into unconsciousness. Yet Elladan was too shocked to move. That _thing_ was not a ghost, he decided, breathing deeply. Yet if it wasn't a ghost, what in all of Arda was it?

* * *

 **A/N: SOOOOOOOOOOO? WHAT DID YOU THINK? Leave a review, I love reading them!**

 _ **Review replies:**_

 _ **Lord Illyren~**_ _Hehe... I enjoyed writing that... XD I am so glad it was satisfying. I hope you like this chapter equally!_

 ** _Lady_** ** _Lindariel~_** _Yeah... Haldir's not too great patience wise! XD At least not when Faegon's in the room. XD Yeah, I've so excepted my villainous! XD_


	14. A Little Fear Can't Hurt:

**A/N: Well look at that... I am back... with another chapter. I am sorry for the delay, and I hope you guys like this! I decided to add a little more on my OC's, just because I feel they need more on them... so tell me if you want to see more on them, and which ones. I can't guarantee the next chapter coming soon, but I can guarantee that I will finish this fic if it kills me.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC's, Braignes, Thorondil, Celebdil and Faegon. I also own Thorondil's cousins, who haven't made an appearance and who do not have names... Thank you to my beta reader BlackShaftedArrow, who was EXTREMELY patient with me!**

* * *

"We could simply go ourselves," Braignes suggested slowly. She looked closely at Elrond, who was seated across from her, next to a large, paneless window. Sunlight shined into the small, private dining room, illuminating corners and the remnants of unfinished breakfast on the table. The dining area was small and slightly cramped, but usable. They had gotten most of their food from servants anyway. The small flet the Rivendell warriors were given was very nice, and the accommodations were more than adequate. Of course it was only Braignes and Celebdil staying there. Elrond and Thorondil were simply there for a late breakfast, and time to speak together.

Elrond had decided to sleep in an extra room with his family, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. His room was across from theirs, and it was much larger than this whole flet combined. Thorondil, however, stayed with his cousins. The four siblings -Thorondil's cousins- Elrond found, were very... enthusiastic. He hadn't even had a full conversation with them before being led off in a different direction to speak with Galadriel. They seemed nice... and overbearing in contrast to their quiet, relatively meek cousin. The most astounding fact was that they were not only siblings, but they were quadruplets. And that was _extremely_ rare, especially for elves... which was probably why the four were so short and small... for elves. Could he remember their names? He wasn't sure... the youngest, he noted, looked nothing like her siblings. Her name was...?

Elrond frowned. His thoughts were getting off track. "This is not our realm, Captain," he said, pained, though he attempted to voice some sort of resoluteness. Just because the Lord of Rivendell wanted to go off and disobey protocol, did not mean he should encourage it the troops. "It is my place personally to let the Lord and Lady do what they think is best. And right now, it is for us to stay put, and for them to send out scouting teams. I am sure we will be allowed to help soon. But this is... a delicate matter for them too. If they can find out where the mercenaries took them, then we can personally go get them.

"And as of now, we are not sure if they were taken to a town, or even a cave in the middle of nowhere." Elrond nearly scoffed at his own words; he couldn't believe that they were coming out of his mouth. Every fiber in the father's being was telling him he needed to move. So the obvious pain was that he was not, and in fact, he was simply sitting there. He was helpless to do anything, at least until Galadriel and Celeborn gave him clearance. And that lack of control was more painful than anyone would ever understand.

"But surely we can't sit here?" she demanded. Elrond quelled the outburst with a glare, the expression a result from his own despair and agony. Braignes settled back down into her seat, stabbing a grape with a fork. The Elleth may not have been young and naive, but for Valar's sake she acted so. She had always been that way with Celebrian too, and never really did act her age. It must have been why she got along with the twins so often. And why she was now a high ranking captain under Glorfindel, who had trained her personally. She was a hard Elleth to deal with, especially when on her bad side. Across the table, Celebdil yawned and stuffed a roll in his mouth. The red haired Silvan pointedly looked at Elrond's untouched food.

"I am going to eat your food if you don't, my Lord," he said, voice muffled. The elf had eaten... what? Seven boiled eggs, four oranges and five muffins. Not to mention the roll he now chewed on. Was no one feeding the Ellon? He consumed the breakfast's contents like he had been starved. Glorfindel had never mentioned the captain eating _this_ much.

Captain, this is not the time." The half elf looked back out the window. He needed to be out there searching, and not sitting -or standing, for that matter- and doing nothing to help. But he didn't have much of a choice now, did he?

No, he didn't. So they would have to wait.

Over in a corner, unnoticed and almost always silent, Thorondil cleared his throat, leaning dangerously back on the chair legs so that only perfect balance would keep him from crashing down. He was so quiet that he was probably the only one who could get away with that... no one even knew what he was doing, or that he was even there, until he drew attention to himself. Elrond wondered what that was like... always being a shadow? Surely he hadn't always been so quiet... had he? Elrond reflected back to when the blonde warrior had always been able to run and fight. Yes, Elrond realized with a start. Thorondil had never said more than four or five words to him, mostly consisting of, "Yes my Lord," or, "Yes sir!"

"My oldest cousin is high ranking in the Lord and Lady's army... and his younger brother is a scout... I know it won't mean much... but," the blonde elf shrugged. "I could easily get progress reports more quickly from them, verses waiting for a written report." The elf's voice was soft, and open to suggestion. The tone someone used when they gave another person life advice, and then disclaimed so that if the advice failed, they wouldn't be blamed. It was a surprise, even to Celebdil, it seemed, that the elf had said this much... and in front of so many people.

Elrond raised an eyebrow. Of course, he, as Lord of Rivendell and high ranking status, would get a report sooner than everyone else. He would receive news the moment it was brought in. But having the former warriors cousins on the job might be helpful, and if possible, let him be updated sooner than usual. A stab of guilt made its way into his heart. Would that be undermining Celeborn's authority...? Elrond knew that any power hungry or controlling Lord or Lady might be furious. But Celeborn? The elf Lord was terrifying at times... but he was more than understanding, if not compassionate. And he knew more than anything, unlike a human king would, that there was no possible reason or way that Elrond would want or know how to undermine his authority. It just wasn't done.

So the elf Lord nodded slowly. "Yes, thank you. That would be more than adequate."

* * *

Elladan pulled against the chains, rattling them for the millionth time, the metal digging deeply into his skin. Everything burned, and everything felt so sluggish. It was useless!

The wet floor beneath him was basically mud. Over the past few days, and from what he thought to be rain dripping through cracks in the ceiling, their living space was now thick sludge, their faces and clothes covered in the black substance. Elladan decided that there must have been some sort of opening beyond that wooden door. Were they in a pit outside? Were they in a steep inclining cave, where the water leaked into their dungeon? There were so many possibilities to consider, and he hoped for the former, which would mean an easier escape. Haldir wasn't lucid enough to give any substantial information. He had been taken, said Faegon, who had -to Elladan's annoyance- not bothered to look for an escape. Taken and questioned, brutally. The fact made Elladan's chest swell with anger, and his skin warmed. And whether or not Haldir saw enough to tell them anything important was a mystery. Faegon certainly wasn't very forthcoming on any particular stances.

Elrohir was the closest to the Silvan, and he had been tending the elf's wounds for the last three days. The days in which the only light they saw came when they were given food, or when the chamber pots were emptied. Nothing else happened. However, it gave them some time to think and heal, and the worst of Haldir's injuries were multiple blows to the head and one broken rib, along with a dislocated shoulder. All in all? Nothing immediately life threatening when tended to -except maybe the head injury. But that never should have happened in the first place. He should have been able to stop it. Valar, they shouldn't even have come!

Elladan was suddenly reminded of his own injuries, again. An obvious truth that would always follow him in this hole. His head still spun, but he had recovered fast concerning their circumstances, and only felt light-headed. The Peredhel pulled up his shirt and examined the gash, which was slowly closing, red where it was scabbing over. It was fairly tender, and was by no means healed. In fact, if he wasn't careful, it would become infected. That was the last thing he needed. The injury still pained him, and the cold, clamminess of their vicinity didn't help, and made his muscles stiff and cold. Not the ideal place for healing. It wasn't the ideal place for anything.

A moment later, Haldir woke, the very first spark of lucidity they'd seen in hours entering his blue eyes. He gasped, coughed, and cursed. Life as he knew it. Elladan scrambled over, just barely managing to see in the dark, while Faegon just sort of... sat there. Dozing? How?

"Haldir?" Elrohir said firmly, and not too loud. "Haldir, can you hear me?" The Warden stirred, and blinked again, and then groaned. A few words were exchanged that Elladan couldn't hear, and then Haldir seemed to relax, or relax as much as possible in this pigsty. His face was still twisted in pain, and he must have been smarting, but if the look on his brother's face was any indication, Haldir was no longer in danger. And why did that not help him feel better -relieved at least? Elrohir sighed, and then crawled over to a pitcher holding icy water, and wet a rag that had been harvested from his cloak. He used it to keep the elf cool, and ward off fever. It was much easier for an elf to sicken from infection and fever, than it was for them to freeze to death. After a moment, he turned back to Elladan and forced a smile.

"He is on a narrow road, and with no medicine... I can't guarantee no infection from any of his cuts or lacerations... but he is no danger now, thank the Valar." The younger twin's voice shook as he spoke. "El, I can't... I-I..." He sighed, burying his face in his hands, eyes moistening. Then Elrohir seemed to pause, and let out a shaky breath, and with effort, calmed himself. "If he keeps on improving, our friend might be well enough to indulge us in some answers."

Elladan nodded. He would like some. If these men weren't just mercenaries, or even if they were, there was a reason they had been kept away for so long. Elladan had a feeling Haldir knew, and if he was able to tell them, Elladan felt it would help them all. They couldn't stay down here for much longer, or he wouldn't just go mad, he would snap. There was no way it could get worse than being in this maddening hole.

 **OoOoOo**

"I had feared this for a long time..."

"And you didn't warn anyone? You didn't think to tell any surrounding elves about this? Wh-"

"-we didn't think it was as bad anymore, Lord Elladan," Haldir snapped, grimacing and pulling both his shackled hands to his forehead. He shook for a moment, growling? Maybe? Or it was just another attempt to keep emotions in check. They all seemed to be going mad down here. Except Faegon; the Ellon never looked to be daunted. That was annoying. Elladan calmed slightly, feeling guilty. "I didn't even realize they still lived! That thing took me up there, and I was beaten senseless for information I didn't even have." The Marchwarden's voice stung with fury, eyes flashing angrily.

"Information you didn't have?" Elrohir asked, frowning. Elladan watched his younger twin closely, and realized with no surprise, that Elrohir looked drained... and depressed. Sorrowful. Something was bothering him, and he was barely keeping it together. Haldir rolled his eyes to the ceiling, as if he was gathering his thoughts.

"They wanted to know where an elf was... they wouldn't tell me why. They were looking for someone. And... I was so confused." He winced, as if the words brought a painful memory. "Then they asked me my name... and then I thought I knew. I can't be certain-"

"But you're mostly certain?" Elladan asked, and rubbed his wrists, which were chafing. Haldir glared at the interruption, but also looked guarded and untrusting.

"I don't know, Elladan. I could very well be wrong. I could be mistaken. Those men from so long ago were... brutal... but surely not this dedicated. Not for so long, at least. And it wouldn't make sense. We didn't do anything to them, why on earth would they want us now? All we did was..." he trailed off, obviously realizing he spoke aloud, and then his mouth snapped shut, and he flushed. Elrohir's eyes widened, and even Faegon seemed intrigued.

"You did what?" Elladan prompted, feeling confused. This wasn't lining up. There was something Haldir wasn't telling them, obviously. "I am confused Haldir... when did you have dealings that closely with men?" Questions flooded his mind. "Why haven't you spoken of this before? What happened? Do you know our location? What is going on that involves us...?" He trailed off again when he saw that Haldir looked _very_ uncomfortable. "Sorry... but... Haldir you know something! Please..."

The Marchwarden leveled a glare on the young Lord, raising an eyebrow. He obviously wasn't going to say much. "It can't be what I am thinking. It's impossible, or nearly so..."

Faegon snorted, a sound Elladan almost thought would stop. He was wrong. "Well, Blondy, we all have learned these past few days that some things we think are impossible, are possible. Like Elladan and I in the same room without killing one another -but of course that could be because of the chains... but?" He shrugged, smiling a cold, unhappy smile. The warrior stared at the ceiling and sighed dramatically. "The point is, that I don't want to be in here with you sorry souls more than I have to. So please, would you care to explain what you possibly did to anger men -Valar I can't imagine what it must have been." The sarcasm in those words made Elladan want to slap the other... hard. Haldir looked far worse. His skin had gone more pale than usual, and he looked sick.

Haldir took a deep breath, and winced. "It was just small... and only a few years ago... we had a deal with some men, simple. That deal was destroyed and people got hurt. Now we're here. I don't think it has anything to do with this."

"Well _that's_ a lie," Faegon noted dryly.

"It shouldn't be that big of a problem."

"More lies..."

"We should be considering other situations..."

"Ooh, that was a big one, all green and lovely and deceitful." Faegon looked snide, and Haldir threw him an enraged look. " _Lies._ "

Elladan shifted into a crouch, the slush beneath him squishing. "Faegon, would you do the world one big favor, and... well, shut up?"

Faegon laughed. "Ooh, is that an order, Lordling?"

Elladan glared, inhaling sharply and making a sharp gesture. "No, it's a challenge, and one I think you incapable of completing."

"In that case, Lordling, I formally, and smugly, do not accept that glorious challenge." Faegon stuck his nose in the air and smirked, making Elladan's cheeks burn hot. He felt himself pulling hard against the chains. How he wanted to punch someone. Elrohir asked the next question.

"So... what are we doing here?" He shifted into a more comfortable position, and then ran a hand through his hair.

"I've no idea... I..." Haldir stopped and grimaced. "They're looking for someone, and I don't know what to think anymore."

"Well you can start to tell us who we're dealing with," Elladan pointed out, feeling impatient and tired.

"Someone very angry... and very dedicated. Except, Elladan, if it's what I think it is, than I already know who they're looking for. But if it isn't... than we are somewhere we shouldn't even be... and life will be better. I didn't tell them my name, Valar forgive me..."

" _Who_ are they looking for?" Elrohir pressed.

Haldir looked at them, eyes pleading and uncertain. "They're looking for me."

* * *

Lord Amarthan sat on his balcony banister, managing to balance somehow, and he perched with one leg hanging down and his back to a pillar. It was raining, only slightly, and there was no wind or lightning, the dampness seeping into his clothes. A perfect day out in the rain, and a lull in the hurricanes. He looked down and below was a fifty foot drop onto hard cobblestones. He breathed in sharply, inhaling the crisp air. A dangerous fall. But if others could brave it, he should be able to with ease.

"A beautiful day... gorgeous. The day my life was ruined," he muttered, looking at the grey sky. There was something enchanting about storms and rain, something he found alluring and powerful. Days like these made him feel nostalgic and... depressed. That depression strengthened his resolve.

"All this for a single elf, my Lord?" Asked a melodious voice, laced with amusement. "You don't even know where the creature is..." He scowled, glaring at the hooded figure behind him. Why did that _thing_ stay so close? It made him uneasy, even if he did have its allegiance. Calming down, he answered clearly.

"You know nothing, dog. You know nothing of that day, and you know nothing of their cruelness." He turned to look that figure in the eyes -until he remembered he'd never actually seen any ocular organs- and glared. "I do not look for one simple elf... I look for two, one who deserves my wrath, and the other who deserves respect."

"But you said you hated elves... something about ruining your life?"

Amarthan pointed at the ghost, tempted to prod it in the chest, if only to feel actual flesh behind that clothing. "If you _dare_ get smart with me again, you'll go back to your cage! You'll never come out!" He huffed, glaring and feeling his rage irked. He almost lost his balance on the banister, and so he slipped off, feet hitting the firm ground again.

The ghostly figure shrugged delicately, and he could sense it smiling. "Very well, but you need me, my Lord."

"I have other resources."

"But none as talented as I."

Amarthan threw the ghost a warning glare, and the thing chuckled. "Very well, I just came to tell you that your little spy is back... he says he carries valuable information. It seems you're gathering more and more strays by the day. How many more elves does a man of your character expect to work for him? How many?"

"Leave me, dog!" He barked, throwing his arms out. The yell seemed to almost make the defiant ghost flinch, and it glided away.

 _How many? Ruining your life? A single elf?_

 _Two elves..._ Two _elves._

 _One who deserved my wrath, and the other, my respect._

 _No, the ghost is all wrong. This is all wrong,_ Amarthan thought, frowning. No one understood him. No one would know why he really did this. Except those two elves, who were there when it happened. They were the ones who caused it.

 _Two elves. Both would see him... one would die, and the other would be crushed._

* * *

 ** _A/N: So in retrospect, I realize that this may not be the best chapter in the world, but I think it's a worthy start for me to have been away so long. I really have no excuse._**

 ** _REVIEW REPLIES!_**

 ** _LadyLindariel:_** _You certainly DID meet my expectations! THANK YOU! I hope this chapter meets yours. As for the ghost-like creature, I can say that he is not a Nazgul... but I cannot say what he actually is... that is still for guessing. I dropped hints throughout the manuscript, if you look hard enough. Hopefully they aren't too obvious. XD_

 ** _Lord Illyren:_** _You, my friend, are good at this! XD I cannot answer your questions, but you're on the right track!_

 _ **Viresse:** Well, I hope this chapter meets your expectations! _

**Again, thank you all for the reads, reviews, favorites and follows!**


	15. The Traces Of A Plan:

**SO I AM BACK! I finally got the next chapter up. *sighs* And yes, the twins and Faegon DO essentially have a, "your face," roasting contest... I couldn't help it. It just seemed ironic. Because they can't really see each others faces. *laughs***

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING! Except Faegon, Thorondil, Celebdil, Braignes, Minastir and Faroth. And any of my OC's I forgot to mention... There are a couple in here.

This was beta'd by the wonderful BlackShaftedArrow!

* * *

After almost a week of sitting in filth, it became easy to simply not care. He had dismissed the dark, the wet, and the chains; Faegon had even overlooked the vermin who lived with him. It wasn't like the rats would be disappearing any time soon. Neither would Elladan, for that matter.

So it came to the point where Faegon only had two problems; his boots and the labored breathing beside him.

"Oh, do continue. Maybe your lungs can blow down the walls."

There was a groan, and the breathing carried on.

Faegon rolled his eyes. "I am being serious. Do your mouth and nose come with a cork?"

"Do yours?" Haldir's wheezed, strained and weak.

Over on the other side of the pit, the wonder twins sat up.

Faegon watched with resignation, pulling his legs up to his chest. He had forgotten Haldir had been unconscious. It had been hours since the elf had even stirred. With a rustle of his chains, Elrohir was by Haldir's side, placing a cold hand on his forehead.

The noise reminded Faegon of his own restraints as he rubbed them gently, feeling the dried blood sting as it pulled away from his skin.

"Your fever has broken," Elrohir told him, sounding tired.

"How does that help us?" Faegon asked, knocking his head against the wall. It sent a dull throb through his skull. He decided the pain was better than boredom. Elrohir glared at him, and he couldn't help a smile.

"Well, for starters— it means that we don't have to try to make conversation with you."

"You tried to make conversation with me? I must have tuned you out. I don't speak troll."

Elrohir shifted, his voice oddly amused. "Oh we tried, but we were speaking Elvish. After a while we came to the conclusion that your skull was just too thick. You can't understand anything when your head is larger than your ears."

Faegon rolled his eyes.

"Have you tried taking a pin to it? I'm sure a hole would release that hot air and you'd finally shut up. It would improve your hearing too," Elladan added primly.

"I'd give you both ugly looks, but you already have one," Faegon snapped. "I just thank the Valar it's too dark in here to see them!"

At least our faces don't look like they were set on fire, and someone tried to put it out with a hammer," Elrohir clipped.

"If laughter is best medicine, Elrohir, your face must be curing the entire world!"

"Quiet!" Haldir shouted. Over in his corner, he struggled to sit up. The room went silent. "You're acting like children!"

"And I suppose you know how to get us out?" Elladan snapped, his chains rustling. The blonde elf seemed to hesitate. " _You,_ apparently, are how we were dragged into this!"

Haldir was quiet for a moment. "You would have been brought here whether I was with you or not. With me here you have a better chance of getting out."

"You mean after they kill you?" Faegon asked. "Because that's what will happen if we don't escape, and no one is very forthcoming with any ideas!"

"He has a point," Elrohir noted.

"And it doesn't make it any better when you keep it from us! If we're arguing like children, at least we have a right to do it." Elladan bit down hard on his lip, cheeks flushing red.

"That's... not," Haldir sighed. "I'm not keeping anything from you."

"Faegon snorted, slowly beginning to laugh. "Yes, because we all know why those men are angry with you. We even know what that wraith thing was. We also know why they're hunting you, and why you didn't tell them your name." He nodded, as if confirming his statement. "We know everything, right? We know what will happen to us if they find out who you are."

"Quiet," Haldir hissed.

"You know, if you simply told them who you are, they would probably free us. I mean... they're only looking for one elf. And if you're him, then why would they need us? You're the reason we're here anyways." Faegon scoffed in disdain. He could feel the heaviness in the room, and how quiet it had gone. He felt something hit him, small and hard. It came from Elladan's direction, and it took him a moment to realize it was a tiny rock.

"Don't you dare."

"You're insane," Elrohir said scornfully, face twisting in disgust.

"What?" he asked. "It's true. Is it treason to speak the facts?"

"No. It's not," Elrohir relented, lips pressed into a hard line.

There was a thump where Elladan had smashed a fist into the wall. "But the talk of selling out a friend is!"

"Blondie is not my friend. And I recall that he's lying to us, and got us trapped in this mess."

"But he's a fellow elf," Elrohir growled, the ferocity in his voice raw. "I don't care what you think, Faegon, but no matter where we end up, who betrays us, or what we go through, stepping that low is disgraceful. The day that happens, you've become lower than an—an orc!"

"I thought I already was one," Faegon said softly, looking away even if they couldn't see him.

"You've come close enough!"

"Elrondion's," Haldir said with a sigh. Just from the noise of his shackles, Faegon knew he was sitting up, head rested on his knees. He sounded defeated. "Quiet."

"But-"

"Do you want to know why they're hunting me?" There was a shamed silence. Faegon noted subconsciously that if they had waited, the elf would have explained himself later. "I don't know how to change this. I don't know how to escape and I'm sorry. I tried to do something when they first dragged me up there. The area was too well guarded. So I suppose I owe an explanation... And I'm dearly sorry, for everything. There won't be much in terms of escaping. When this is over you might even hate me."

The sun was setting on another long day as Thorondil sat pensively in a corner, quiet and unseen. He watched as Elrond talked to his cousin, Minastir, who was at least a head shorter than him. The conversation had been going on for an hour, so Thorondil had gone to sit, ever aware of his aching leg. He had been resting, temporarily forgotten for a while now, waiting for a resolution. Or at least a plan.

He knew he wouldn't be able to ride out when the scouts came back with a report. However, Thorondil, as quiet as he was, liked to be involved. He asked questions without using his voice, collected information without being seen and was present without acknowledgement. It was the closest he would ever get to having the use of his leg back. Now as it drew his attention, the thing thrummed with pain. He looked down at it, adjusting his brace as if it would help. But sometimes, as Elrond had told him, the healed wound would hurt for no reason at all.

"So you will come to me with a report?" Elrond asked. It wasn't easy, but the attentive, quiet elf could hear pain in the same voice that was meant to be strong. His face fell.

Minastir nodded. "I will try. I cannot guarantee I will come personally, but I will send my brother."

"Thank you. I hope to hear from you soon," Elrond said quietly. The two exchanged a few more words before Elrond left the room, Minastir following behind him. Thorondil watched them go with a thin smile, left alone once more. At one time in his life, he would have been sent out on those scouting missions. He would have been in the know and others would have listened to him.

Thorondil pushed himself to his feet with a grunt, dusting off his clothes. But now he was here, and there were certain advantages to being a shadow in a room of darkness. The reason he had come to Lorien was to visit his cousins. Since they were busy, Thorondil decided he would try to be the same. If there was anything to find in the Lord and Lady's realm, he would find it. In fact, Thorondil knew just where to look.

"It took me a while to find this, Lord Amarthan," Ralnor said, handing him the necklace. The Lorien elf stepped back as Amarthan examined the jewel closely. He fidgeted like a nervous mouse, his skin crawling with regret. The choice was made now, but Ralnor wondered what it might have been like if he hadn't made such a rash decision. If his friends wouldn't have hated him. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, fighting to keep his breathing calm. What were Rumil and Orophin thinking of him? Did they hate him too? Did they even know?

"It looks like any other Lorien leaf. How do I know this is the right one?"

Ralnor frowned. "Well the point of bringing this to you is for you to identify it, not I," he said dryly. Amarthan ignored the quip and looked it over again. "Where did you find this?"

Ralnor sighed, running a hand through his hair. "With Marchwarden Haldir's things."

Amarthan raised a red eyebrow. "And that's it? That's your report?"

Ralnor tilted his head in consideration before speaking. "There's more... But, Lord Amarthan, I have been found out. The Lord and Lady know what I've been doing, I can't go back."

Amarthan glared at the elf, dropping the necklace beside him. There was a silence. "Tell me the rest, elf, and I will try to grant your request."

"My name is Ralnor, human. Do not treat me like that slave you have tucked away in that corner," he snapped, gesturing behind him, his body rigid. The presence in the corner swayed, but as far as Ralnor could tell, it hadn't actually moved. Chills ran down his spine.

"That slave could end you in moments if I gave the order," Amarthan replied snidely, sitting back in his chair, long legs crossed at the ankles. Ralnor eyed it warily, scanning the small study's corners.

"What would you do for me, to compensate me for my treachery?"

Amarthan laughed, sitting up again. "If I remember correctly, _Ralnor,_ you came to my father in a fit of rage, never asking about your motives. It's been twenty years? We don't owe you any compensation. If I took you in you would be in _my_ debt. It would be a favor."

"And you'll grant me that favor if I give you the full report?"

Amarthan nodded.

Ralnor inhaled sharply. "The elf you said you were looking for was a Marchwarden, yes?"

"A superior, a Captain," Amarthan agreed.

"And you recognize that necklace?"

He nodded. "It was around the neck of the elf who shot my son."

"I found it in Marchwarden Haldir's things, Lord Amarthan. I passed young Lords Elladan and Elrohir on my journey here. The Lord of Imladris even came by. There've been scouts sent out."

Amarthan's brow furrowed in the dimming light. "Do you mean-"

"-there are whole search parties looking for the young Lords. I believe you have them in your dungeon, and if I'm not mistaken, you have Captain Haldir with them too."

"Who's the annoyingly loud fourth one then?" Amarthan asked.

Ralnor hesitated for the briefest of moments, and then shook his head. "I have no idea. But the records I have," he said taking a sheaf of papers from his bag. He shuffled through them and handed one to the Lord. Amarthan promptly snatched it from his hand. "They say Haldir was off duty that day, on a canceled mission to this town, near the river Celebrant. He survived the fray-"

"Then if your report is right, he is the one I am looking for..." Amarthan trailed off, looking sharply at the rogue elf. When he had interrogated the Silvan, Haldir had refused to give his name. Amarthan cursed. He should have known that something was off. The man's blood boiled beneath his skin, filling his chest with a searing heat. He didn't realize he was biting his lip until his mouth filled with blood. "And I have the sons of Elrond as well?"

"And an angry army of elves who want them back, Lord Amarthan. You should forgo your plans before they find you and kill you."

The man's lips drew into a thin line, his skin paling. "No... What about the second one? The one that was tortured. We had him for five years..."

Ralnor began to sweat, hands becoming clammy. "I knew him. He's forgone going over the seas for healing. His name is Faroth, I believe."

"Silver hair?"

"Yes. He's taken to staying alone in a secluded flet close to Caras Galadhon. No one ever talks about what happened..." Ralnor felt his heartbeat quicken, his nerves slowly overwhelming him. Whether it was the long-lived betrayal or the notion of death, he knew not. "But shouldn't you cut your losses and run? They'll find you—and me, for that matter."

Amarthan stood, gripping the Lorien leaf in his hands, knuckles turning white. "I am so close. That _thing_ is down there, and it is waiting for me."

"But what about the young Lords?"

"I'll have them all moved," he said offhandedly, striding towards the door. "Beat them if it's fun. No one will catch me. Dog!" he shouted. The ghost crept from the corner, silent as if it were dead. "Prepare the wagon! And Ralnor?"

"Yes?"

"If you want your immunity, I have one more task for you. It is of the most importance."

Ralnor frowned, biting his lip. "What is that?"

Amarthan paused by the door, blocking the ghost-like being from sliding away. He looked over his shoulder. "I need you to go back to Lorien and find this Faroth. Bring him to me, please. I'll send one of my dogs with you-" the ghost actually whirled around, its black cloak rippling. Ralnor froze when he thought he saw the white skin of the things wrist. "Kill whoever is in your way -I don't care if it's an elf. No one can see you."

Ralnor's throat tightened, rendering him speechless. Amarthan stepped aside to let the ghost pass and smiled at Ralnor, gesturing to the door. Those human eyes flashed with a light that made him uncomfortable. It nearly terrified him.

Finally, as Ralnor trailed behind the human Lord, he found the will to speak. "Do you understand what your slave is? What you have working for you?"

Amarthan didn't even look at him. "I am beginning to."

Elladan found himself dozing again, knees drawn up to his chest, his hands held firmly in between. It was the safest and warmest way to sleep. He had found that out after a few wet, frozen nights with the rats. Luckily, Faegon had been the first to cry out, cursing violently until each little creature was lost to the shadows.

Elladan found it almost fascinating that the creatures could survive in this hole. Where did they eat? What did they eat? More importantly, unless Faegon had been falling asleep on his watches, where did they get water from? Elladan shuddered, thinking of their water pitcher in the corner. What if Faegon had fallen asleep on his watches?

Well that was a dumb assumption. If he had, it would have been obvious. The water level would have been lower, or the whole thing could have been tipped. So they had to live off some other source; he hadn't heard them lapping at the sludgy puddles gathered in the dips of the pit.

There had to be another way they got their water.

Elladan opened his heavy eyes, blinking them. Once again, the world around him stayed constant, as it had for the last... two days? It was dark. To his side, he could hear Elrohir shuffling, pushing himself into a more comfortable position and then sliding back down. It had become some sort of game, something his brother had been using to occupy himself. He did that instead of talking now. Elrohir hadn't said a word since Haldir had told his story. Or he said so few that it got easier to forget them.

 _Haldir had sighed heavily, as if burdened by some massive weight. "This is a long story..."_

 _"Well it now involves us, so I would think you should probably tell us something."_

Elladan had tried hard to forget some of Faegon's snarky comments in the conversation, but they still stung irritably in his mind.

" _Blondy is too caught up in himself to explain, aren't you? We all have sob stories. Yours can hardly be worse than any other one."_

Haldir had been irritated, and had almost stopped talking. So Elladan had prodded gently. Suffice to say, the reason they were now locked in a cell was not what he expected.

 _"A while ago, there was a trade -Galadriel nor Celeborn knew about it at first. Well, at least we thought they didn't. We were being stupid; one of my friends said it would help both sides. It was naive. We were on a patrol, and there was a town in poverty just a few miles out of our borders. We made friends with the young lord who ruled there, and we offered to pay for their supplies. But they said they wouldn't take charity, and they would sell us the only thing of worth they had. Orophin said it sounded suspicious. But the man seemed good enough, and Rumil and the others wanted to help. So we offered to buy their Valar forsaken weapons._

 _"I was the senior among them, and so I had the clearance to allow it. The Lord and Lady even gave the money to pay for it."_

 _"So what went wrong? I thought you said our grandparents didn't know about it?"_ Elrohir had asked.

 _Haldir looked at them for a very long time before continuing. "Orophin told them... They agreed for a little while, but then Lady Galadriel had a bad feeling, but by the time that happened we were on our way. Not my brothers. There were just four of us. Myself and three very young soldiers. They were with us when we first came to that town."_

 _"And I am guessing our grandparents had canceled the trade, and you didn't know?" Elladan asked._

 _Haldir scoffed, cheeks burning red. "They canceled the trade, yes. But we had gone early. Some stupid point that one of the other elves were trying to make about being on time. The Lord and Lady couldn't have got word to us anyway."_

 _"What could make a trade like that go wrong? Sounds like you all had your ducks in a row. Did they not like your face, Blondy?" Faegon asked, smiling._

 _"They brought two children," Haldir continued pointedly. "They brought two boys, barely two feet high."_

 _Elladan sat up straight. "What?"_

 _"It was a set up. It had to be. They brought the boys as insurance that we wouldn't kill them all after they took the money. For Valars sake they thought we would kill them. Then they said our money was bad pay, and they needed more." Haldir's expression was sour. "And then one of the younger elves stood, trying to speak and he was stabbed in the neck with a knife. One of the knives they were supposed to sell to us! They were planning to kill us and take everything. They brought children into the line of fire! We were helpless."_

The rest Haldir didn't explain as clearly. When Elladan asked why they would have set up such an elaborate scam, he claimed he didn't know.

 _"Things got out of hand and people died. I was the only one who got out alive, and it was because I killed. I shot an arrow straight at one of those boys and I have never forgiven myself. The only other elf I know survived was tortured for years because I thought he was dead. I didn't even bother to go back and look for him! Now he's even refused to go to across the sea for healing, and I don't know why." Haldir swallowed hard, shaking. "That's my fault. I swear I never forgave myself. And now that this has come back I never will."_

Everything had been quiet ever since. Haldir didn't speak, and only stirred in small fits of rage. Elladan sometimes heard him muttering things. But as two days wore on, everyone was still. Faegon had also stopped talking, which was scarier than he would have thought possible.

After a while, Elladan winced, stretching his stiff muscles. "We will get out of this... We have to. I have a plan."

Then the door above them swung open in a stark array of light.

It was a clear night in Lorien, a multitude of stars shining brilliantly above as Thorondil limped steadily through the forest. Blond tresses hung loose from where he tied his hair back, clinging annoyingly to his face. Pain pulsed through his leg and he ignored it, a sense of euphoria washing away the discomfort. He hadn't been this active in years; almost no one allowed him to walk alone anymore. Now he limped at a brisk pace, ever closer to the large flet before him.

Eventually he reached the staircase, his green eyes following it all the way up the tree. His face paled, expression softening in concern and determination. He couldn't climb that, but that was never his plan. Thorondil bent down and swiped a rock off the forest floor, inspecting it with a careful eye. He had thought about bringing a bow instead, but an arrow would put a whole through the window. So he dusted off his selected stone and eyed the window next to the door. Then, pulling back to cast, he released the rock. It went sailing past the window, ricocheting off the trunk and disappeared into the foliage. Thorondil's face fell.

After a moment of searching he found another rock and tried again. This time, despite his lack of experience, the circular stone hit the window sill. For a while, nothing happened, and Thorondil wondered if he should have hit the glass instead. However, a moment later Rumil answered, straightening in surprise when he saw the visitor. Thorondil offered an unsure smile, his mind blanking.

"Thorondil?"

Thorondil nodded.

"Um, Orophin is on the scouting mission with Minastir, if you were wondering," Rumil said slowly, clearing his throat and quickly descending the stairs. "Are you well? Why are you alone?"

Thorondil's face twisted in confusion as he cocked his head to the side. A silence dragged on before Thorondil realized that Rumil was patiently waiting for an answer. He shook his head. "I need your help, Rumil."

Rumil hesitated a moment, as if wondering if he had heard correctly. "For what? Is something wrong?"

Thorondil turned and began limping in the other direction, using the action to hide a wince. "It's something I was working out. I just... I need your help."

He heard Rumil's footsteps following him and he smiled. "So you're helping Elrond? That's why you're here?"

Thorondil nodded, smiling while he inhaled deeply. "He doesn't know. But I had come to thinking about why humans would attack. Then I remembered Faroth, and that we need to find him..."

* * *

 **Authors Note: Leave a review and tell me what you thought! I am surprised and VERY pleased to see some new faces in the review box! WELCOME AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR STAY! *gestures* with whatever this is. I also left some hints as to what the ghost is (I may have made it too obvious, even if it was just a flash of skin. So we know the ghost is at least flesh) And some more hints to look for about the ghost in Amarthan's dialogue! If any of you can catch it I will be so impressed! Because it wasn't that clear!**

 **Review Replies:**

 **MistressOfImladris~** Yes poor Elrohir tends to be the one in the middle. Faegon and Elladan are yet again in another bout. *laughs* It even starts with his POV, so you can get into his annoying little head! As far as bad guys go I didn't think Amarthan was too bad on my part. Definitely not the most evil dude in the box, but sinister and selfish all the same. He will NEVER be up to any good. I am very glad you liked my arguments! Oddly, they are the scenes I enjoy writing the most. I love coming up with come backs and stuff. The words, "I really currently want to punch Faegon," makes me really happy for some reason. Because I meant him to be that way. *laughs* I am glad he's not too bland, and has enough character for people to hate. Although he is my baby, so I kind of **love** to **hate** him.

 **AdminElrohir~** I am glad! It makes me so happy to know you all love this story! *grins* it really does mean a lot!

 **Lord Illyren~** Haha! Well I didn't have any Tolkien characters I could introduce to be the second elf (I mean I could have made it Orophin, but then Haldir would have been more aware and he would have been out for revenge.) So I made it an OC, who Haldir didn't know very well and someone he could almost dismiss as dead, and I can have more creative freedom with him. He won't show a ton in this story because I have enough characters in play as it is. But I have ideas for him. I hope the plot is speeding up smoothly and it's not too rushed. Definitely tell me if it is.

 **LadyLindariel~** Thank you so much! *bounces* It pleases me immensely to know you enjoyed it! Well your answers should be answered here! But, my friend, there is always another secrete and I have a couple plot twists planned... Nothing is really as it seems. Thank you! XD I love writing things between Elladan and Faegon...

 **Viresse~** Thank you immensely! You're review means so much! I hope you enjoy this just as much!

 _ **~SSD**_


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